What is This Thing?
by allInAday
Summary: Trapped in a loveless engagement to Finn, Quinn seeks out something she has always wanted. Rachel Berry. Will they keep it simple, or will they let their emotions take hold? Faberry
1. Chapter 1: Keep It Down

A/N 1: Hello Faberry Fandom! This is my first fic, so any feedback you have would be much much appreciated. I have a few chapters written already but I am curious to see what people think I should do with this. Just an idea I had re-watching season 3.

A/N 2: More has been added to this chapter since originally posting!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it's characters, or it's plot. If I did, Finn wouldn't exist other than to be the punch line of all Santana's jokes.

* * *

"Fuuuuuuck!" I yelled from the deepest gut I had.

I wasn't sure if it was from the three fingers she had buried deep inside me, or from how hard I hit my head against the cabinets behind me. It was a pleasurable pain, I do know that.

"Shhh," she whispered it against the shell of my ear. Her hot breath sending chills straight down my spine and directly to my core. I moaned even louder, the exact thing she didn't want me to do.

"Jesus fuck Qui-" and then another guttural moan. Words weren't even forming in my head at the moment because she was doing that thingwith her thumb and _oh, don't ever stop doing that thing with thumb_. It brushes lightly against my clit, coaxing all logical thought out of my head.

"Shhh," she slowed her movements almost to a stop but her mouth never left my ear. I moaned again, but this time out of frustration from how close I had been. _Fuck, keeeeeep going. _

"He isn't that heavy of a sleeper." She whispered again, flicking the shell of my ear with the tip of her perfect tongue.

I nodded my head because, dear God, I would be as quiet as she wanted if it meant she would pick up her pace again. It seemed to appease her because before I could ask for more she slammed into me. Hard. _Shit._

I bit my bottom lip to keep myself from making any more verbal justification. She kept slamming and I kept quiet. I tasted copper on the outside of my lip but felt no pain. I was so close and –

"Come. Come on my hand so I can lick you off my fingers." Another whisper and another taste of blood. But those words were all it took and my body shook. It shook and then it ceased because any motion at all was just impossible. Her thumb continued to stroke my clit and her fingers continued to move until I slumped against the cabinet and rested my forehead on her shoulder.

After what felt like a year and a day trying to regain my breath, she slowly pulled out of me and pulled her head back to look my square in the eye. Hazel orbs coated in black lust locked with mine as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked. The side of her mouth quirked up as she lightly moaned at my taste on her lips.

I pulled her by the neck to have a taste for myself but when her forehead met mine she tilted to the side, just out of reach. She let out a light chuckle, laced with a forcefulness that should have sent a fear down me. Not another flood to my core like it did.

Quietly, so quietly I almost didn't hear the sneer in her tone, she said, "You get so fucking wet when I fuck you, don't you?"

It wasn't a question I had to answer. She had the proof all over her kitchen counter. I was still dripping. I would have been embarrassed, but time and time again she told me how hot it was when she didn't even have to warm me up.

She pulled her head back so I could see her smirk again and God, how I still wanted more. But in the next instant she was gone. Picking up my underwear and shorts off the floor somewhere near the refrigerator where they had been thrown the second I walked in the door. I hoped off the counter because as soon as she walked away, I knew we were done.

She handed them to me without a word and slipped off to wash her hands while I slid them on. Staring at the back of her short blond hair, I wondered how she always gets it to look just a little bit different.

"It's been fun. As always." Her normal cold tone pulls me out of my stupor and I smile her way. It always is fun.

"Next time, I can, you know, for you-" I offer. Although it's I know it is futile. She won't accept next time when I offer, just like she didn't this time. But she nods her head and takes another sip of water and I know it's my cue to see myself out.

I walk over to the door checking to make sure I have my keys. I never bring anything else over because she is too afraid I will leave it behind. Even the vibration of a phone could be a dead give away in her mind. Although, I'm pretty sure the vibration of the pots and pans from the sheer force of her thrusts are way louder than my phone on a table.

I turn back to throw a smile over my shoulder at her but she's already out of the room. I would let the smile fall from my face but hey, she just did that thing with her thumb and the smile won't fade from my face for at least an hour.

* * *

"Where are you, bitch?" I heard as soon as I clicked the door shut. _Busted._

"In here, Kurt." I called back through a sigh as I drop my keys onto the tray by the door. Already dreading the third degree I was no doubt about to receive. It was already past midnight and I was just getting home. I knew the questions were coming.

"Ah ha!" He yelled when he turned the corner from his bedroom. He must have been studying. I could still hear the faint sounds of Celine coming from his propped open door and he only listens to Celine when he studies. He says it helps him concentrate.

"Where have you been Miss Berry?" He stops right in front of me and grabs my forearms with both his hands and kisses each cheek once. A habit he picked up one summer abroad studying design apparel in France. When he pulls away he keeps his arms steadied on me to keep me in place.

"The library." I lie.

"Oh. Big test coming up, or …" He trails off. A question at the end giving me the opportunity to correct him.

"Yup, Musical Theory test Monday. Big big big." I lie again with a smile on my face.

"Were you there with anybody?" His head tilts to the side.

I shake my head. "All by myself. What smells so good in here?" I try to change the subject and look around the kitchen for something else to focus on. The lies came easier these days, but it didn't mean I didn't still feel a little guilty about it.

"I ordered Chinese. I went by the library earlier to print out my English paper and I didn't see you." He cocks his head to the side, challenging my story.

"I was in a private room in the back." I swat at his pouty face and let out a light chuckle. _Keep it light and he will eventually stop._ _Just be your normal self. Throw your long-winded rant his way. _"You know I sing through Musical Theory. I highly doubt my peers would appreciate my breaking out into Barbra's rendition of Don't Rain on My Parade. Even though it is by far the best selection in my vocal repertoire."

He takes a deep breath but leaves it at that. "Okay, well I got some extra Chinese in the fridge. I figured you didn't eat while you were out." _Aww Kurt, always caring too much about my well-being._ He lets go of my arms and I take the opportunity to scamper off. I really was quite hungry.

Kurt takes a seat at the center island while I heat up the China Fun leftovers. The smell takes over the inside of my nostrils and I realize I haven't eaten all day.

"So…." He taps his fingers against the cool granite on the counter top looking for something to break the silence. "Are you going to Quinn's thing this weekend?"

Hearing her name grabs my attention. _What does he know?_

"Her bridal shower. It's this weekend." _Oh that. _"I know you aren't captain of the Quinn fan club, but she's going to be my sister-in-law and I just really think … "

I cut him off with a snarl before he can finish.

"I just don't see the point, Kurt." I huff out. "Where's the soy sauce?"

"Top shelf, right cabinet above the sink. Rachel. You have to let what happened all those years ago go."

"Let it go? Which part? The name calling, the slushie throwing, the boyfriend stealing?" I take a deep breath. "I let all that stuff go." _Really, I did. Trust me._ "But that doesn't mean I support all of this.

"Is this because of Finn?" He lets it out in a breath so quiet I would think he was scared of the answer.

"No." And that wasn't a lie.

* * *

****** FLASHBACK ******

_It wasn't what I was expecting it to be. I've been living in New York for nearly 3 years now and it wasn't at all the glamorous life I hoped for._

_Sure, I had gotten out of Lima and that was the goal. Sure, I had been accepted into NYADA with my best gay and I was on my way to getting the diploma on the wall accrediting me to live out my dream under the illustrious lights of Broadway._

_I walked by the marquees and still got chills thinking that one day it would be my name in people's playbills. I never lost that dream. But I was missing something._

_It was a chilly Friday night in October after an impossibly hard showcase for my Junior seminar when I walked into Clydes. It was the only bar I knew on this side of the city that nobody I knew would be. I took my usual perch and flagged down the bartender._

_"The usual, Miss Berry?" I nodded as he wiped his hands on the towel. He gave me a short nod and turned to pick up a glass from the shelf behind him and I toyed with a loose thread on the end of my coat._

_"Take off your jacket and stay awhile," He laughed his charismatic laugh as he flashed his bright smile my way. I couldn't help but return it, albeit halfhearted._

_"Thanks Frank." I wasn't in the mood for chatting. And I wasn't in the mood for taking off my coat._

_Frank didn't have to be told. And that's one of my favorite things about him. I've been coming to this spot for 3 years. It was the only place I knew that didn't seem to mind when I was a freshman and my ID said I was a 26 year old named Lily from Queens. They also never batted an eye when I suddenly grew younger and my name changed a few months ago._

_I only came here on the days I needed a pick-me-up that came in the form of 80 proof and on the rocks. It was only on days when I couldn't help but think of the what-ifs._

_People came in and out all the time. The bell above the door signaled their entrance to seclusion and their return to reality. It wasn't a place to socialize and it wasn't a place to ask questions. It was a place to think inside your own head._

_That's why I never ever noticed her walk through the door. I never noticed her sit down next to me and I never heard her voice order a drink. Who knows how long she had been sitting there before I picked my head up to throw a twenty down on the table and retreat back to my apartment on 83__rd__ street. I had no idea. But the raise of her eyebrow told me she had been waiting for me to notice her for at least a little while._

_I stuffed Mr. Andrew Jackson back into my coat pocket and walked to the other side of the bar._

* * *

I know this is very short. But more is coming!

Thoughts are wonderful :)


	2. Chapter 2: Lost In Translation

"Miss Berry!" I heard it, but I didn't. I was somewhere off in another world, doodling on my sketchpad, getting lost in a world of lead colored bubbles and flowers and airplanes. Airplanes that flew me far away from the freezing cold air conditioning circulating through this overly large lecture hall.

"Miss Berry!" I heard it more so this time, but my head was too tired to lift and acknowledge the source. My hand slowly stopped shading the tail of the plane and I lifted my gaze to the front of the room.

"Miss Berry! You will listen in this class while I am teaching. What you do outside these walls is your own decision, but I demand respect." _Ugh. _I roll my eyes and reluctantly set my pencil down. The right side of my face immediately taking up residence in my now empty palm as I lean my elbow on the armrest of the desk.

It doesn't stay there long, though, as I feel a buzzing in my pocket alerting me to a text.

Old Rachel Berry would have never dreamed of checking her phone. Old Rachel Berry would have never thought to doodle in class. But years of redundant information and lack of practical experience has taught me how to become bored. And less motivated.

_**Lucy Ray: New Text Message**_

Figures. A booty call.

I already know what it says before I slide my thumb to open it.

_**I have until 10. Don't bother wearing underwear.**_

I roll my eyes are the crudeness of her message. What happened to being wined and dined? What happened to chivalry? What happened to at least trying to cover your intentions with codes like "Let's watch a movie" or "I need help with my homework" or "I made too much pasta, you can come and have some, if you want…" That was all dead in today's day in age.

Regardless, her effort was pointless.

_Kurt's making dinner. Sorry._

And her response was instant.

_**Blow him off.**_

Oh, because that would be nice of me.

_Can't. He's already getting too suspicious. _

_**Whatever.**_

Yes, chivalry was dead. Not that I expected it from her anyway.

****BREAK****

The clinking of ice cubes in my Tervis Tumbler is the only noise that occupies my ears. Everything is shut off in the apartment. No television. No fans. No lights. Nothing. I sit alone on the couch swishing the vodka on ice around in my cup and let the soft natural light of the city make its way in through the open blinds. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the couch. Happy to soak up some semblance of simplicity as I bring the cup to my lips.

"Honey! I'm home!" Kurt's cheerful voice didn't startle me. I heard his keys in the hallway. But it did get me to open my eyes.

The lights he flipped on overhead blinded me momentarily and I let out a dramatized moan to show my disapproval. Always the actress.

"Holy shit, Rachel! What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark?" The look of confusion didn't completely mask the worry in his eyes.

He walked cautiously towards me like I might run away if he made any sudden movements. _I'm not a cat, Kurt._ He grabs my drink out of my hand and takes a sniff before cringing and taking a seat on the table in front of me.

He pats my legs that are propped up and waits for me to look at him. "I'm worried about you." Blunt. To the point. Unwarranted.

"About?" I challenge his gaze. I really don't have time for this. I've got everything covered. I don't need him questioning me all the time.

"Look at you, Rachel. I come home to find you sitting in the dark nursing a gin?"

"Vodka." I don't know why I correct him. Clearly that wasn't the point he was trying to make.

He lets out a deep sigh and nudges his head to the left, indicating I should scoot over. I do, but only because I am too drained to protest.

"I just don't know what's going on inside that crazy little head of yours anymore. You drink like a fish, you disappear at all hours of the day and night." I go to interrupt him before he stops me with his hand and a shake of the head. "I know you aren't at the library every time. Not even you study that much."

I don't say anything for a while. Concern is not something I am used to. It's not something that I was showered with my whole life. Sure, I have supportive Dads who love me more than anything. But I have always been good at concealing my emotions. Diva storm outs and overdramatic waterworks not included. My true emotions stay behind the Berlin wall I've built up around my heart. After years of emotional abuse from my peers, it became necessary.

"I'm fine." Short, to the point. He looks at me again and cocks his head to the side as if to say _yeah, right_. "I promise. Just stressed with school and everything. You will be the first to know if there is anything major going on in my life." It was another lie. But it was for everyone's own good.

***break***

"_Anybody sitting here?" I know the answer already, but it seemed like the only icebreaker worth trying. We already knew each other. Asking her name would be redundant. _

_She shrugged her shoulders without looking at me and picked up her beer, knocking back the rest of the contents. She raised two fingers to Frank signaling another round with such familiarity it was almost as if-_

"_This is going to sound cliché but… do you come here often?" I cringed the second I heard it come off my tongue. I took my seat next to her and waited for her to look over._

_She didn't. She just shrugged her shoulders and gave a sharp nod in thanks for the beers that were sat down in front of her. She slid one over to me and I got the hint that she wanted me to take it. _

_We sat like that for a while. Her looking off into nowhere and me looking at the side of her face. She really was just as beautiful as I remember her being. I haven't seen her since the summer before Freshman year. I knew she transferred to Columbia her Sophomore year but I never asked why. Kurt knew. She was engaged to his brother after all. I somehow managed to avoid both of them for this long. But, hey, New York was a big city._

_My eyes traced her face. Her hair was shorter than I had ever seen it, but it still reached her chin. The blonde was duller than I remembered and her skin was pale. She looked tired. The dark circles under her eyes were a dead giveaway. But despite all this, she still had a glow. My eyes traced her jaw. It was set with a tense clench that I suddenly had the urge to smooth away. I looked down at my hands as if to warn them not to move then looked back up at her lips. They were smooth and … suddenly smirking._

_I looked back down. This time my eyes trailing over her body. I looked from her leather boots that came to her knee, high-heeled and fashionable, to her jean covered thighs. My eyes traced her abs through her tight fitting shirt. You would never guess that she had a kindergarten age child running around in the world right now. It was getting warmer in the bar suddenly. I subconsciously started unbuttoning my jacket from the top button down as my eyes kept trailing up her body._

_When I reached the bottom button of my coat with my hands and her collarbone with my eyes, I stopped. A force was stopping me. Her hand on mine._

"_Berry." Finally, her raspy voice. Lips still smirking. Eyes still staring in front of her._

_I cleared my throat to tell her I heard her. That was probably the last word I heard come out of her mouth before we left Lima. "Take care, Berry" or "move, Berry" or something of the sort. It seemed like a poetic bookend to our 3 year separation. A good reinstatement to our friendship that never once existed to begin with._

"_Want to get out of here?" Well, that's not what I was expecting her to say._

"_Yeah." And that's not what I thought I would say back._


	3. Chapter 3: Just One Time

A/N 1: Hello Faberry Fandom! This is my first fic, so any feedback you have would be much much appreciated. I have a few chapters written already but I am curious to see what people think I should do with this. Just an idea I had re-watching season 3.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, it's characters, or it's plot. If I did, Finn wouldn't exist other than to be the punch line of all Santana's jokes.

* * *

I will admit I've been out of sync lately. Everything I do seems one second too early or two seconds too late. Things aren't connecting like they should. My hands are out of sync with my feet which are out of sync with my legs which are out of sync with my mind. Things were falling through the cracks or through my fingers. Like the glass I dropped on the floor in the kitchen.

It came crashing down and shattered around my feet. A metaphor for everything else in my life. I took a test this morning I forgot to study for because I was too busy screwing Quinn in the bathroom of Clydes. I guess I really only ended up screwing myself on that one.

"What on earth?" Kurt rushed in to find me with my head in my hands standing in the middle of a barefoot death trap.

"Don't move, I'll get the broom." He said before rushing out.

Then there was Kurt. He was my best friend and yet, I treated him like a stranger lately. Every time I came home late and snuck into our two bedroom living quarters, I was lying to him. It was always a different excuse. Last night I told him I was at a rehearsal.

He eventually stopped asking questions after the countless times I told him it was nothing to worry about. It wasn't that I didn't trust him. I just knew he wouldn't approve of my extracurriculars as of late.

I was in the same position he left me when he returned. I wanted to cry. This feeling of disconnect was overwhelming and I couldn't quite put my finger on how to stop it. Kurt must have noticed.

"Walking on, walking on, broken glass." He sang. It got a chuckle out of me as I removed my hands from my face.

"Thanks." It was sincere. He always knew how to cheer me up. And I appreciated him even more in that moment as I finally was able to move and he swept the pieces into a dust pan.

I trudged over to the couch and plopped down. The wine I was going to pour would have to wait until I got my shakey hands to settle. I sat there for a while and began to drift off when Kurt coughed. I didn't open my eyes.

"Your phone won't stop going off." I immediately jumped up. It was late and I already knew who it was. Only one person ever texted me after ten.

I rushed into the kitchen to pick my phone from the counter. I couldn't let him see who it was. Yes, it's password protected and no, I don't think he would ever go through my phone but an addicts paranoia is unmatched to anything.

He handed it to me, my frazzled state obvious.

"Who's Lucy Ray?" He asked as I looked down and saw the screen.

_**New Text Message: Lucy Ray (4)**_

"It's nobody." I absentmindedly willed him to not ask again. Or to figure it out.

"Nobody seems to be adamant." He half chuckled, half inquired. I knew he didn't want to challenge me, but his curiousity was getting the better of him.

I read the texts in front of him, against my better judgement.

_**Finn's out.**_

_**He'll be with his friends until at least 1.**_

_**Come over. Now.**_

_**I want to hear you scream my name.**_

The last one made me blush. I've never really been allowed to do that before.

I looked back up at Kurt who had his eyes locked on my rosy cheeks. A knowing glance passing over his face. I quickly typed out a response.

_Give me 15._

"Really, it's nobody." I turned and walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

* * *

It took less than two minutes after I walked through the door to Quinn's apartment for her to be inside me.

"You said he would be gone for a couple of hours. Shit. We can, fuck, we can slow down." I said between breaths I was struggling to catch when she threw both my legs over her shoulders and ran her tongue slowly up my core.

I looked down from my spot sitting on the back of the couch to where she was on her knees in front of me. Short hair skewed every which way and dark eyes looking up at me. I could feel her smirk against my wet center.

She didn't respond verbally. She just took my clit into her mouth and sucked hard. That was the only answer I got before my eyes rolled into the back of my head.

* * *

It was around midnight when I left. There was no cuddling, no kissing, there never was. Just fucking. On the couch, on the floor, on the kitchen table, and in the shower. When I finally hailed a cab, I could barely walk.

* * *

_We didn't talk as we left the bar. I didn't ask her where we were going and she didn't offer an answer. I just followed her as she hailed us a cab and let me scoot in first._

_She gave the driver an address I didn't know and told him to take the longest way he could. I didn't ask her why. _

_Our interaction in the cab wasn't entirely different than it was in the bar. Quinn looked out the window at the passing buildings and I looked at her. This time when my hands had the urge to touch her, I didn't stop them. But she did._

_As soon as my right hand reached out to touch her she put her hand on top of mine and placed it back in my own lap. I wasn't sure how she always knew what I was about to do when she wasn't even looking at me, but somehow she did._

_Her hand never left me though. Her finger traced up and down my thigh. Bringing the hem of my skirt with it. It was so light and careful, but it sent chills to every inch of my body. I was so focused on keeping a steady breath because, God, she was only barely touching me and already I felt more than I ever had before, that I barely noticed the cab stop and her pay the driver._

_I followed her lead out the car door, up the stairs, through the lobby, and onto the elevator before I even realized I was walking. I watched her push the button for the 6__th__ floor and counted the dings as they went up. Holding my breath at number 5._

_As soon as we walk into her apartment she flips the lamp in the foyer on. I look around at the tidiness I know she has obsessively kept the place in. I see the pictures on the walls and suddenly it hits me that – _

"_Where's Finn?" The caution in the question is unmistakeable. I am nervous to hear the answer. What if they broke up and I knew before Kurt? What if he is sick, or hurt, and is in the hospital. What if he's – _

"_Asleep." She says it like it was the most obvious answer in the world. Well if he's asleep… wait, I thought they lived together? That can't be right. I open my mouth to question but she jumps beats me to it this time._

"_He's in the bedroom passed out. It's about that time of night." I furrow my eyebrows even more. Was this a joke? Get Rachel Berry back to the apartment on false pretense? Was Puck going to jump out of the closet with a slushy while Santana ties my hands and feet together?_

_She must notice how my face falls and anticipates my upcoming outburst because she is quickly standing within inches of my face, her fingers on my lips._

"_Shhh. He's asleep, but he's not dead." Her face moves even closer until we are breathing the same air. " If you aren't comfortable with this…" She lets the option trail off before she grabs the back of my neck with her hand and brings her mouth right up against my ear. "But I am going to get in the shower…" She licks the outer shell of my ear and my knees go weak. "If you want to join." And then she's gone._

_It takes me a second to realize what is happening before I feel my legs moving. When I look up, she is standing in front of me with a smirk on her face and a towel in her hand. She grabs me by the waist and pulling my body against hers with her right arm while her left reaches out to close the door to the guest bathroom behind us._

* * *

**Thoughts? Comments?**

**This is all I have written so far. I have some thoughts on where to go from here but any sort of feedback is welcome! :) **


	4. Chapter 4: Something Borrowed

A/N: I was getting a little stuck writing in first person so I switched it up to see how it would work.

A/N 2: I know this is incredibly short, but I wanted to get something out before I take on the next chunk which will be much longer.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters. Although I wish I did, because then I would be rich.

* * *

One of Rachel's favorite things about New York City was that it was never quiet.

Most people hated the fact that they could hear sirens and cars honking at all hours of the night. But Rachel took comfort in the white noise from below. Often times it drowned out the thoughts racing through her head.

She liked to lose herself in overly loud conversations the neighbors had, pretending she was there to mediate and diffuse the situation. It gave her a feeling of control. Control she knew was slipping away from her lately.

Getting lost in another world was exactly what she was doing tonight. She was lying on Quinn's guest bed watching the lights from the street bounce off the walls of the darkened room. She was listening to the stream of the shower while the blonde washed away the evidence of what they had spent the last two hours doing. And Rachel was trying not to think it had anything to do with _her_.

It had been a typical beginning to the night. Quinn had texted her to meet at Clydes and have a drink before, not so forcefully, convincing her to come back for a nightcap. Rachel knew she should already be dressed and gone by now. She never stayed until Quinn got out of the shower.

It wasn't that she never wanted to stay. It just became standard ritual. Quinn would get her off one, two, six times, depending on where Finn was, before the blonde would get in the shower and Rachel would dress and leave. She never asked to stay and Quinn never offered. At first Rachel chalked it up to the fact that forty percent of the time, Finn was fast asleep in the master bedroom. But after a few nights where she knew the tall jock would be out till the next day, she figured it was more to do with Quinn than anything, or anybody, else.

And, to be honest, they barely even spoke to one another, cuddling would be far too intimate. Even if Rachel sometimes imagined what it would be like to lie in the blonde's arms.

Finn wasn't home tonight. He was away for the weekend back in Lima for reasons Rachel didn't ask about. Kurt barely spoke about his brother to the diva, knowing she wasn't the biggest fan of her ex-high-school-sweetheart. And Quinn, well she wasn't about to bring him up to Rachel in any context. The only thing the brunette knew about him was the fact he was one of the newest rookies for the NYPD and that he regularly worked the night shift.

Rachel heard the shower turn off and groaned. She knew she should have gotten out of bed five minutes before too late had already passed, which was ten minutes ago. She reluctantly sat up and looked around the room for her discarded clothing, which was carelessly tossed into the dark within seconds of her arrival.

She swung her legs off the bed and moved to get up when she heard the door to the bathroom creak open slowly. She still never understood why Quinn insisted on using the guest bathroom, even when Finn wasn't home.

She turned her head to offer the towel clad blonde a soft smile indicating she already knew she overstayed her welcome when she saw a flash of surprise cross the other girls features.

"Oh, I, uh, I didn't realize you were still here." The blonde nervously looked down and swept her toe across the hardwood floor. In the faint light from the outside walls, Rachel could see a tinge of pink paint the pale cheeks of the former cheerleader. _That was different._ "You can, like, take a shower or something." Hazel eyes looked up to see chocolate ones, and they must have seen the uncertainty swimming on the surface. "I mean, if you want. I have clothes you can borrow."

Something about the softness of her voice made Rachel sigh. It was somewhat adorable when HBIC Quinn momentarily stepped out of the building and _this_ Quinn, however rare, briefly took her place. Something about this Quinn made her want to stay here forever.

_Wait. What?_

"Oh. No, that's okay. I was…" the brunette trailed off, now more frantically searching for her bra. _I swore I had a bra. It was red_. "I really should go." _Okay, pants first. I know those are here. Oh! There they are. _"I didn't mean to –" her words were cut off as she toppled onto the floor, her foot caught in the pocket of her jeans.

_Smooth, idiot. Now she's laughing at you._

As soon as she regained her footing she grabbed her shirt from the bedpost and threw it over her head. The bra be dammed.

"Rachel…" the soft voice almost broke her forward progress.

"I have to go. Taxis at this time of night are atrocious to hail with all the people returning from various areas across the city and the subway stops running at 2, right? I think it does. I try to avoid that level of public transportation as much as possible. Do you know how many homeless people skulk in the dark corners of –" the dive rambled as she slipped on her heels and, well dammit, these straps worked just fine earlier.

"Rachel." This time it was a little louder. A little harder. A little more Quinn.

"The conditions of public transportation hubs are absolutely deplorable as well. I feel as if I might contract a flesh-eating virus just by simply looking at the handrails on the subway. One in every five. –"

"Rachel!" There she was. _Her_ Quinn she knew and lov- well the Quinn she was used to.

"Okay, I'll go now." And with that Rachel stood sturdy on her own two feet and began making her way to the front door.

Quinn followed her quietly to the door. Something new, in and of itself.

"Finn's out all weekend." Quinn offered point blank.

"So I heard." The brunette offered with a sturdy nod, deflecting her eyes to the spotlessly clean floor.

"Maybe we can do this again tomorrow?" a smirk lifted across pink lips.

"Yeah, maybe." She responded with the most indifferent tone she could muster. The thought of spending any sort of time with Quinn sent a small wave of, something, through her. _No, stop it._ And she turned to leave.

Until a firm hand grabbed her wrist and spun her around, trapping her between the door and a very toned body. The taller girl bent down and took the diva's earlobe between her teeth before husking out –

"I'm going to make sure it's more than a maybe." And then she was gone.

Rachel wasn't sure whether or not that was a challenge. But she knew she was about to find out.

* * *

**Feedback is the best kind of drug. Help my addiction.**


	5. Chapter 5: Lying is Loving

A/N: First off, thank you to everyone who has reviewed/sent messages/favorited/followed! I am glad at least one person is enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it

Not at much Faberry interaction in this, but necessary to move the story along I feel. I think there is a lot more going on internally with Rachel than she cares to recognize.

Anywhooooo, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters. If I did, Santana would constantly be wearing a bathing suit.

* * *

Rachel slumped down onto the squeaky leather of the yellow town car as soon as she left Quinn's apartment. It was nearly 3 in the morning and she had been right.; empty cabs had been hard to come by at this time on a Friday night. Well, technically Saturday morning.

She had no idea what those thoughts had been when the blonde had stepped out of the bathroom. Well, she didn't as much have thoughts as she had feelings.

Quinn and Rachel didn't do feelings. They had been sleeping together, no, _fucking_, for nearly three months, but they didn't talk about anything other than what position to try next. And really, it wasn't even a two way street, seeing as how Quinn would never let Rachel get her off. A truth the diva stopped thinking about after their first couple of times of times together.

Quinn never told Rachel about her day or how she was feeling and, hell, she didn't even mention her fiancé's name unless she was telling Rachel how long it would be until he walked in the room. In turn, Rachel never bothered to tell the blonde about school, her auditions, her family, or anything about her life. She knew that wasn't what Quinn wanted to hear about.

Their relationship was strictly physical. Rachel would be lying if she hadn't thought about breaking it off more than once or twice. She knew what they were doing was wrong but, _damn_, did it feel right.

She didn't have anything against Finn, per say. He was a nice guy. He treated people with respect, he had an honorable job, and took care of the former cheerleader the best way he knew how while she finished out her pre-law degree. At least, that's what Kurt always told her.

A pang of guilt spiraled though her gut when her flamboyant roommate would talk about the nice things Finn did for his future wife. Rachel, albeit unwillingly, heard about all the meals Finn cooked for the blonde, the fact that he would buy her flowers 'just because' and, wow, if she had to hear the story about how he proposed on the top of the Empire State building one more time, she was pretty sure she was going to puke.

It wasn't jealousy. _Absolutely not._ It wasn't that she _liked_ Quinn in that way. She hardly knew anything about her former enemy. Not anymore anyway. She knew tons about her back when they were in high school. Like the fact that she enjoyed wearing yellow on Saturdays and how her voice always cracked when she sang a song that reminded her of Beth. She knew she would stand up for her best friends, even if she never wanted anybody to know. She knew her favorite slushy flavor was blue raspberry, and she singlehandedly called off the jocks from dumping any on Rachel's head after Junior year.

She knew Quinn would get this sad look in her eye back when the diva herself dated Finn. She could only assume it was because she had still been in love with him.

She could only assume that she was madly in love with him now. They were getting married, after all.

But all those things that Rachel used to know about the girl where no longer relevant. She wasn't the same girl she had been back then. _Well, mostly._ Quinn hadn't suddenly grown soft in her older age. Quite the opposite. Those hazel eyes had grown colder and even more distant. The moment's where Rachel saw them soften and smile had dwindled down from rarely to almost never.

She never bothered to ask why Quinn was cheating on Finn with her. The last she checked, the blonde wasn't president of her fan club, even though they had called a cease-fire on their war. Not to mention, the last time she checked the Quinn folder, the words STRAIGHT were written in big, bold letters, right at the top. Personality didn't really matter when it was strictly sexual, but she was pretty sure the right body parts were.

As the cab finally pulled up in front of her building and successfully pulled her out of her trip down memory lane, she realized she had two options.

Quit sleeping with Quinn Fabray. Or quit thinking about _why_ she's sleeping with Quinn Fabray.

She really did have needs.

* * *

Rachel had gotten pretty good at walking through her apartment in the dark without making noise. She knew where all the creaks in the floor were and she was careful to avoid them. The less attention she drew to herself when she walked in, the better.

She should have thought about that before she left her phone sound on loud.

The three-chirp ding that was synonymous with the iPhone echoed off the walls 4 times consecutively and made her cringe at the severity. She let out a silent curse; she knew Kurt was a light sleeper.

She didn't even have time to check who on earth would be texting her at this hour before Kurt strode in rubbing the sleep from his eyes and scuffing his feet across the wooden floor.

"What the hell time is it?" He forced out through a yawn.

"It's time for you to get back to bed Mister Sleepyhead. Come on. I'll bring you a warm cup of tea." She forced on the biggest grin she could muster and perkiest voice in her diction library as she threw her purse, phone and keys onto the table. She was far too tired to get in any sort of lying game with him.

"Bullshit, where have you been?" He said suddenly more awake when he saw the microwave clock mock him with the numbers 3:27 on them.

"I was on the phone." Well, she had been at one point in the night.

"Again. Bullshit. With who? It's 3:30 in the fucking morning Rachel." _Oh. Cranky Kurt woke up for this conversation._

"My dads." _Can't argue with that one, right?_

"Bullshit." _Evidently so._

"Quit saying that."

"Then stop feeding me bullshit."

"I'm not feeding you bull-"

"Yes you are! You were not on the phone with your dads. Why won't you tell me where you were?" Kurt raised his tone as he stepped closer to the tiny brunette.

_Well, this has been fun._ Rachel rolled her eyes and went to move past her roommate to get ready for bed. She _really_ wasn't in the mood.

"Don't walk away from me!" Kurt said as he grabbed her wrist.

"Leave it alone, Kurt." She didn't turn around to look at him. She already felt the steam pouring from her ears.

"No." His voice wavered off as he sighed. "No, Rachel. Not this time."

Alright then, if he wanted to have it out, Rachel would oblige. She may not be in the mood to argue, but she sure wasn't in the mood to lose either.

"You want to know where I was?" She questioned with a snickering tone. _Serve to the other side. Ball is in play._

"Yes. You are worrying me lately." _A nice volley by the skilled opponent._

"I was with a friend." _Challenge accepted._

"Who?"

"You don't know her." _Game._

"How do you know?"

"Because I know all your friends." _Set._

"Is it that Lucy girl? That one that always texts you?"_ On the line. Judge rules it in. _

"What are you going through my phone now, mom?"

"Are you two dating?"

"No." _Match._

"Why do you have, what is that? Chocolate? On your neck?"

"We went for ice cream." _Would the opponent's please shake hands…_

"Why haven't I met her?" …_Evidently not._

"What's with the first degree?"

"Because you've never even mentioned her but she's who, I'm guessing, you've been with at all hours of the night?"

"That's none of your business!" _A shouting match now. _

"It is my business! I'm supposed to be protecting you but you, you're, you're not here to be protected."

"What?" And just like that, all the balls where pelted one by one at the brunette while her emotional barrier fell to it's knees.

"After you and Finn broke up, and we moved here. I promised I would protect you. I promised I would look after you and make sure nobody ever, ever hurt you again."

"Who-" Rachel stuttered out the words. Looking around for some clue as to what was going on.

"I promised." Kurt choked out. "I promised and I can't if you won't let me." The tears began to flow more freely and immediately all of Rachel's barriers turned to sand and washed away with the salty proof of his raw emotion.

Rachel immediately swept him up into her arms and brushed his soft hair from his face. "Shhhh… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't been around. But I'm fine. Nobody's hurting me."

"Is she taking good care of you?" Her shoulder muffled his voice and she had to ask him to repeat himself. "This Lucy girl? Is she what you need?"

Rachel hoped beyond hope that his own sobs drowned out the waver in her voice when she said, "Sure, sure she is."

And that was the biggest lie she's told him yet.

* * *

Another short one. More coming very soon!

**Feed my addition, please and thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6: Here I Go Again

A/N: Just another little something till I get the next something out tomorrow.

I'm enjoying the feedback, so keep it coming!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee but I wish I did. Cha-Ching!

* * *

It was nearly 4:30 before Rachel finally got Kurt's tears dried and into bed again. It was nearly 5 before she herself got under the covers. And it was 5:07 before she remembered what triggered the whole Kurt v. Her fiasco to begin with.

She struggled to reach onto her nightstand where her phone was to check the text messages that remained unread.

She was only slightly surprised to find who they had been from.

_**Lucy Bray: New Message (4)**_

She rolled her eyes, already guessing they were something crude. All their messages were.

_**You left your bra.**_

_**I found it under the nightstand.**_

_**You'll have to come get it tomorrow ;)**_

_**Red is definitely your color.**_

The color in question flushed across her cheeks as she typed out a response.

_G'night, Quinn._

The messages didn't garner a response, much less that one. But, then again, all of what Quinn had to say could have been typed out in one message. Reasoning modern social technology wasn't something she was up for debating with herself at the moment.

She was almost asleep when a familiar ding startled her awake.

_**Night, Berry.**_

She fell asleep with a smile on her face. That was the most non-sexual conversation they had ever had.

* * *

Rachel and Kurt didn't discuss the previous nights revelations at breakfast that morning. They never even really made eye contact before Kurt left for his ritual hot yoga class. Rachel wasn't the least bit surprised, and went about planning out her day.

She had been neglecting her work lately, going on less auditions than her self allotted minimum of 5 per month. _The more lines you cast, the more fish you catch._

She decided she would start with a run in the park. It provided the perfect ambient atmosphere for collecting character studies of the New York City strange and normal all while memorizing a catalog of Broadway necessities via iPod.

20 minutes and a protein shake later, she was on the west side of Central Park, jogging up a hill and listening to Mamma Mia's original soundtrack on full blast. Her eyes caught focus on an elderly couple sitting on a park bench feeding the ducks and she didn't stop the smile from forming on her face. _Wouldn't that be nice._

She wasn't paying attention to where she was going until she felt a forceful thud against the front side of her body, and another sharp pain to her backside as she fell back onto the ground.

"Oh shit, I am so sorry." She rushed out as she jumped to her feet and pulled her headphones out, looking up to find a pair of dazzling blue eyes looking back at her.

"It's quite alright, it's a distracting thing listening to…" The woman in front of her joked and threw her a shining smile as she gestured to the brunettes forgotten iPod.

"Broadway. Mamma Mia." Rachel couldn't help but smile back.

The woman's bright smile was paired with striking bone structure, flowing auburn hair, and a firm body. _At least, it felt firm when smacking straight into it._ The thought made Rachel blush at her reminded ignorance to her surroundings.

"Oh well, I am very sorry to interrupt you, miss Sophie." The nameless woman winked with a smirk.

"Oh, no, it's Rachel, not Sophie." This garnered a hearty laugh from the taller woman in front of her.

"I'm sure it is. I was referring to the character."

"Oh, right. Of course." _Facepalm._

"I'm Angela." She offered the brunette her hand in formal greeting. "And don't worry, Chiquitita, I don't think anybody saw."

Well, the woman definitely had a charm. She oozed with it, actually. And she evidently knew something about Broadway. _She could earn a point or two with that._

A vibrating on Rachel's hip broke her out of any sort of thought, alerting her to a message on her phone.

"Excuse me, just one second." The diva smiled as she aimlessly opened her text message.

_**Lucy Bray: New Message **_

_**Just got back from the gym. About to hop in the shower. Want to come over and join me?**_

Rachel couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips. She had to give the girl credit. Her efforts were becoming a little more valiant every time. Sadly, that was one of the more romantic things Quinn had said.

She typed out a quick response, telling the blonde she would be there in less than a half hour and turned back to the woman she almost forgot was standing in front of her.

"I actually have to run. But I'll try not to bump into anyone again." She laughed and offered another polite smile.

"Well, in case you do, how about I give you my number? That way, if the next innocent bystander isn't as understanding, I can vouch for your sanity." It was smooth, almost to the point of corny. Rachel hesitated at that. "Unless, you already have somebody to vouch for it?" The redhead added.

Rachel sat there for a split second and weighed her options before she ultimately decided –

"You know, it never hurts to have more than one person testify for you."

* * *

Like Rachel promised, she was at Quinn's approximately twenty-seven minutes later.

It was earlier in the day than Quinn had ever called her over, but she figured the blonde probably had plans later and didn't want to wait until the early morning hours like she normally would.

The apartment was different in the daylight. She had never noticed the colors inside before. A light blue paint covered the four walls of the living room furnished by a brown leather sofa and matching love seat. A TV sat on a table in the corner with a plethora of DVDs lined underneath. _Those must be Finn's_.

Rachel took it upon herself to walk around. She couldn't help her curiosity. Quinn had yelled when she knocked on the door to "come on in" and that she would "be out in a minute."

It was a strange feeling. Being free inside the walls of the taller blonde's home. She was usually led to wherever they would be for the next hour or so and then her vision was blinded by her own eyelids as they fluttered shut at the smell of Quinn's hair, and then that _thing_ she did with her thumb.

She was running the tip of her index finger across the spines of dozens upon dozens of books on a neatly organized shelf when she felt Quinn's presence enter the room.

"Have you read all these?" The brunette said they first thing that came to her mind. She didn't know why she asked. That kind of question was far more intimate than was normal for them.

What was far _more_ intimate than that was when Quinn walked up behind her and brushed her long wavy locks to one side and bent her head down to rest on her shoulder while her hands came to rest on the shorter girls hips.

"Mhmm," the blonde murmured against her neck, "Every one of them. Some twice." Rachel felt a grin against the sensitive skin of her neck.

Her breath hitched at the gesture and her body immediately tensed. Quinn must have felt this because her hands squeezed the firm muscles underneath her fingers and spun the shorter girl around to face her.

"Why do you ask?" She husked out as she lowered her lips to Rachel's pulse point.

_Was this a conversation?_

"No… um no reason," Rachel stammered out, the feeling of Quinn's lips on her neck quickly pulling all thoughts out of her head. "I just never knew you were so, studious."

She felt the blonde laugh as the taller girl let her tongue taste the salty skin beneath. "I guess there are a lot of things you don't know about me." She didn't hide the smirk on her face as she pulled away and brushed a strand of brown hair behind the singer's ears before turning quickly on her heel and walking away to the guest bedroom.

"I guess there are." Rachel let out a sigh as she followed her sometimes lover into the dark room.

* * *

**Until next time, folks!**


	7. Chapter 7: Some Things are Better Left

A/N: Alright, this is another short one. I wanted to get it out before the next leg of the story starts... Which will be much much longer and have more development between the two girls.

Until then, enjoy.

Oh, and thanks for the reviews/alerts/cake. What, I didn't get any cake? I should get cake.

* * *

Neither Quinn or Rachel jumped out of bed immediately after their three-hour marathon.

They hit the bed, then the couch, and the kitchen counter after Rachel went to get some water, then back to the bed again. The brunette was sure Quinn was in a competition with herself for the ultimate "getting Rachel off" number. She was pretty sure the blonde secured herself in the record books.

It was nearly 7 o'clock now and the sun was beginning to set over the buildings visible outside the window of the 6th story apartment. Rachel's mind was still in a haze from the last thing Quinn had tried and she barely registered the blonde lightly caressing her naked stomach with the tip of her pale index finger when the small diva's counterpart spoke up.

"Are you hungry?" The voice was small, timid. This was 'Shy Quinn'.

Rachel's head snapped to the direction of the girl next to her out of surprise. The blonde wasn't looking at her, but at her own finger tracing over the abs of the tan stomach beneath. Rachel's gaze followed and watched the pale digit paint a picture on her skin, igniting a fire in its wake. When the finger slowed to a stop, the brunette raised her eyes to meet hazel ones looking back and remembered she had been asked a question.

She shook her head no, even though she wasn't sure. She couldn't feel anything but butterflies in her stomach as a result of the hand that was now laying flat across her.

Rachel couldn't explain the sensation of comfort that washed over her in that moment. They eyes she was staring at gave her that feeling. You know the one? Like when you are on top of a rollercoaster and for that split second you know its about to catapult you 70 miles per hour to the ground, but at the last minute gravity will take you into it's grasp and lead you to safety. She had that terrifying feeling that she was going to fall, but a comfort to know they she would be caught and cradled in soft hands at the end of it all.

She had this overwhelming urge to reach out and touch Quinn in that moment. Something she rarely ever did, unless it was to hold on for support during another mind-blowing orgasm. She had lost track of whether or not it was because Quinn didn't want to be touched, or because she didn't know if she should. But desire took over logic and she surprised herself when she felt her fingertips graze the milky skin of Quinn's cheek.

What surprised her even more was the way the blonde slightly leaned into the touch and hazel eyes never broke contact with chocolate ones.

They remained that way for an unknown amount of time before they were thrust back into reality with a loud ringing.

If there was a fire starting to smolder between the two of them before, it was put out quickly by the intruding noise. They jumped apart as if somebody had just walked in with a video camera and a flare gun. _Those seemed like the two most threatening things at the moment. _

Quinn grabbed the offending object off the nightstand and answered nearly out of breath, shooting Rachel a look over her shoulder, only to be met with a bare back as the brunette fought to get dressed.

"Hey Mom. What's up?" Quinn sighed as she ran her hand through her short, choppy hair.

Rachel tried not to listen to the conversation the blonde was having behind her as she slid her underwear up her legs. Every time they got out of bed, she couldn't help but feel exposed considering she was fully undressed and Quinn, typically, was still wearing a bra and underwear.

"Yes, Mom, I know." Rachel could hear the annoyance in the girls voice and fought the want to smooth the wrinkles she could already picture forming across Quinn's forehead.

"I'll make sure she doesn't say anything." Rachel turned her head subtly to watch Quinn rub her hand across her face. "No, Mom. She won't cause any problems."

Rachel felt like she was intruding all of a sudden. Like she was witnessing a conversation she wasn't authorized to witness.

She quietly made her way around to the other side once she was fully clothed and laid a hand softly on Quinn's shoulder. When the blonde looked up, Rachel motioned over her should to the door and mouthed 'I'm gonna head out,' before attempting to leave.

Attempting, because a hand on top of hers stopped any forward progress.

She looked up into the eyes that had captivated and unsettled her all day as the blonde girl shook her softly 'no' and mouthed 'wait'.

"Yeah, well, it's my choice who is there and who isn't and I would really appreciate if you didn't single her out because of her history with Finn. They are past that. Trust me." Quinn snapped into the phone.

Rachel was taken back. _Were they talking about the wedding? Where they talking about her?_

Her startled expression caught Quinn's attention. "Look, I have to go. I'm not arguing with you again about this."

Rachel was alarmed by how loud the thumping of the phone down on the nightstand was, and she was transported back into the present.

"She is really getting on my nerves about this wedding. We need to make it through the bridal shower first." Quinn laughed, but it wasn't from her gut. It was on the surface and it was painfully obvious that it was forced out.

Rachel didn't really know what to say. Quinn never talked to her about her family. Or her wedding. Or anything for that matter. She talked about, well, she didn't talk.

"Oh, I can only –" Rachel shyly fumbled out. This was new territory.

"She wasn't talking about you." Quinn cut her off. "I know it sound like… she wasn't talking about you, okay?"

Rachel nodded her response and went to open her mouth before –

"She hates that Santana is my maid of honor." Quinn offered even more information. "Something about how she is 'loose' or whatever. I tried explaining that she is married to Brit now, but, well my parents rather her sleep with my fiancé than know she was sleeping with a woman, let's just put it that way." Another forced laugh.

Immediately Rachel felt like the walls got close to her. _Quinn_ was sleeping with a woman. Well, not sleeping. And nothing was technically happening to her, she was just aiding in somebody else's pleasure. But, still, her values she grew up with definitely didn't agree with her most recent actions. _Quinn's parents_ would have a shit fit and a half if they knew what was happening under the roof they helped pay for.

"I really, I need to get going. Kurt said he would be home early from dance practice and I don't want him thinking anything about… well I just don't want him asking questions again." Rachel stammered out before making the ultimate decision she was _actually _going to make it out the door this time.

"Are you coming with him tomorrow?" Quinn asked nervously as she followed Rachel to the door.

"Coming where?" She was genuinely confused.

"The, um, the bridal shower? You got an invitation, right?" Why could nobody speak in a sentence without stuttering around here?

"Oh, I don't know…" Rachel had a lot of bad ideas in her life, but that one sounded _really_ bad.

And something about that answered snapped Quinn back into reality.

"I mean, it's whatever. Come or don't." And HBIC Quinn was back in the building.

"Yeah… alright. I'll see ya later Quinn." Rachel called timidly as she turned on her heel to leave.

"Bye, Berry." And then the closing of a door.

* * *

Rachel stood on the other side of the door for a couple of minutes trying to think about what had just happened.

Had Quinn sounded like she wanted her to come tomorrow? Before she hat reverted from Shy Quinn to HBIC Quinn. _I mean, that's weird right? Going to the bridal shower of the girl your fucking, who, oh by the way, is marrying your ex boyfriend and gay roommates brother._ It gave her a migraine just to think about. _Yeah, that's too weird._

Not to mention the butterflies in her stomach were only now just starting to die, and she still wasn't sure if she liked how they made her feel invincible when they were around.

Going to that bridal shower was _definitely_ not a good idea.

* * *

**A guest reviewer said there should be more reviews. I am inclined to agree. Don't want to let them down, do we?**

**Lurves :)**


	8. Chapter 8: Unsaid

A/N: So it has been promised, and it had been delivered. Finally, a longer chapter. Over 3,000 words of Faberry fluffiness! Okay, that's a lie, but it _is_ over 3,000 words. You know I wouldn't give you too fluffy yet!

Anywhooo, I think this may answer some questions about Quinn. Maybe not. Maybe it will just bring up even more question. In due time, in due time my friends.

Until then, ENJOY!

Oh, and keep those reviews coming!

* * *

She knew this was a bad idea. She knew this was a bad idea since Kurt jutted his bottom lip out at her and bribed her with free range of hid DVD collection for a month. And if you knew Kurt, you knew this was begging at his finest.

And for this reason alone, Rachel found herself sitting on Santana and Brittany's couch at their home in Long Island nursing a glass of Pinot Grigio and replaying all of _Funny Girl_ in her head.

She was trying with every once of her being to drown out the cacophony of laughter filling the brightly lit living room. Laughter of which she couldn't reciprocate. She watched as women in their twenties sipped on over priced wine and played tireless and trite games like "toilet paper bride" and "pass the bouquet". _Seriously? People find this shit fun?_

She was almost nearly to Barbara's iconic _Don't Rain on My Parade_ when she felt a hand lay down softly on her shoulder and a new glass of wine lowered in front of her. When she turned to see who the hospitable hand belonged to she couldn't help but return the smile she saw.

"Put a smile on, sunshine." Kurt whispered before walking over to take his seat in the middle of a dozen bleach blonde women. Actually, Kurt was the only man in the entire house.

She couldn't help the fact that her lips curled up slightly into a smile at that before it was immediately cut down by –

"Who wants to play Memory Lane?!" One of the overly bubbly girls in Lily yelled while clapping her hands together. Nineteen other girls and one guy cheered. Santana coughed on her own spit from laughing at their reaction. And Rachel rolled her eyes. On the downward rotation to the right, she caught sight of the most beautiful face in the room, who was wearing a knowing smirk and looking directly at her.

For the first time that day she smiled a real smile and threw her own smirk back at Quinn.

* * *

"Okay, okay, Q, pick another!" Brittany squealed in excitement as the room died down laughing at the last memory.

Quinn appeased the tall bubbly blonde and reached in the bowl for another sheet of paper.

"I hit that bitch with my backpack. She shouldn't have stolen my cookie." Quinn read with little to no emotion. "Aw thanks, Santana. I'm fond of that memory too." She retorted sarcastically.

"Hey, they said favorite memory with you. I gots to keep it real." Santana shrugged her shoulders and took another swig of her beer.

Rachel couldn't help but giggle at the two of them. She never understood how after all these years they had remained so close. Half the time they seemed like the hated each other. But blood is thicker than water, she reminded herself, and these two where most definitely sisters.

"Santana! That's not a very nice memory!" The Latina's girlfriend chastised as she hit the aforementioned girl in the shoulder with her free hand.

"Come on Brit Brit. Tubbers knows how much I love her, or whatever." Santana gave her friend a half smile and her girlfriend a squeeze to the knee.

"Not as much as you love me right, San?" The dancer pouted before her other half leaned over and gave the jutting lip a chaste kiss.

Seeing the two of them made something in Rachel tingle. Tingle with envy, tingle with want, tingle with happiness. She couldn't imagine two people better suited for one another.

"Never." Was the soft reply that came before another kiss. This one lasting a few seconds longer.

"Alright, next!" Kurt yelled as he clapped his two hands together, breaking the two lovebirds apart.

Quinn reluctantly reached her hand back into the bowl and pulled another card.

Her hands unfolded the crumpled piece of paper and scanned over the words. Her eyes immediately shot up, finding a pair of brown ones that bore into her from across the room. Both of them already knew what it said.

"You know, I'm getting hungry. Is anybody else getting hungry? I think it's time we eat." Quinn rushed out trying to stand before Kurt pulled her back down.

"No, no, no. We aren't even finished yet! There are like three more you still haven't read." The boy insisted.

Quinn stared at Rachel again, silently begging for her help.

"You know, now that you mention it, I am absolutely famished." Rachel stood to move to the kitchen as well. That garnered her a glare from Kurt and a look of, what was that? Curiosity? Knowing? Understanding? Anyway, she got whatever the look was of from Santana.

"Sit." Was all Kurt said, and Rachel agreed. There was no getting out of this one as she mentally facepalmed herself for the situation she got herself into.

"Read it." This time the order was directed at Quinn.

With a sigh and a hesitance, the blonde read –

"My favorite memory of you is also my first. In that moment, the only thing I wanted to do was know you." She lifted her eyes to the same spot she had been looking before.

Rachel _really_ needed another glass of wine.

* * *

They finished the game not too long after Rachel's moment of sheer embarrassment. Nobody really made any comments on the intimacy of her memory and the group quickly moved onto the next person.

The room as now filled with a steady buzz of people indulging themselves in fermented grape juice and meaningless conversation. Quinn and Rachel had yet to share words directed solely at on another.

The brunette stood off in the corner of the room observing the company around her. Or at least, she was trying to, but her eyes kept wandering back to the same person. She watched as Quinn flipped her hair and spoke energetically to a group of girls Rachel believed she knew from Columbia. They laughed with one another and Rachel couldn't help but feel out of place.

She didn't know anybody hear other than her former McKinley counterparts. She wasn't close friends with Brittany or Santana, or even Quinn, in high school… if you could consider them friends at all. She didn't really have any friends at all in those days.

She was driven. She was motivated. She was captivated by her dreams. Old Rachel would have taken this opportunity to network and connect with the new faces around her. _You never know who will turn out to be a director or producer one day._ The old Rachel would have insisted the crowd listen to her sing or watch her dramatic dialog.

Part of her missed the girl she once was. Part of her couldn't remember what that girl was like at all.

Somewhere along the way she became trapped in her own mind. She didn't let other people tell her she couldn't live up to what she once wanted, because she had already told herself that. She knew that accepting a Tony on Broadway's greatest stage was a far off hope, one she may never achieve. Part of her blamed some of the people in this very room for the person she was now.

She watched as Quinn plastered on a smile. A smile she recognized from her years in school with the girl as forced, pained, and plastic. She knew it in the way that her dimples didn't show or her eyes didn't glow. She saw it in the way that the blonde kept her arms crossed around her torso, blocking herself off from any vulnerability.

"Quinn!" she heard one of the girls say, "Where is your mother? I thought for sure we would have miss Judy grace us with her verbose personality today." The question made Rachel cringe at the thought of the woman.

It evidently had the same effect on Santana, who immediately tensed in her spot next to Quinn. Rachel had a feeling it had something to do with her.

"She just couldn't make it. My father had a company meeting, and you know the Fabray's, always looking to entertain." The answer was rehearsed. Rachel knew Quinn was used to making up excuses for her family.

"Okay, enough will all the unimportant! You must tell us!" Another girl chimed in. When Quinn gave her a questioning look and the raise of her left eyebrow, something Rachel found to be adorable, the girl elaborated. "Finn! How did he propose?"

Rachel felt the wind leave her lungs immediately. She didn't want to hear this.

"Oh, it's really not –" Quinn began.

"Oh, don't be silly! Every story is romantic." The girl playfully swatted at Quinn, insisting she tell. All the girls, including Kurt, _gosh he was such a lady sometimes_, nodded their heads along. Quinn's eyes met Rachel's briefly before she took a deep breath.

"It was last summer. We were at my parent's lake house. He cooked dinner, we had some wine," Rachel looked down at her glass and wanted to throw it out the window. "He bought me some roses and he just asked. There was nothing fancy to it." She shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of her own drink.

"Sometimes simplicity is the most romantic thing." One of the girls said with a daze in her eye. Actually, when Rachel looked around, almost all of the girls were wearing identical looks.

"I think he's a pussy." Santana, always the blunt one. Brittany smacked her in the arm and Quinn left out a laugh.

Rachel used the opportunity to sneak out the patio door. No, the story wasn't romantic, but it was real. Hearing Quinn talk about Finn as more than a time and location made things more, well, just more.

She breathed in the fresh air to her lungs and it burned. It burned in a way that made her realize she was still alive. She fished in her purse for a cigarette, a habit she picked up against her better judgment over a year ago.

She stood their for a while, leaning against the railing, watching the moonlight bounce off the waves in the pool. It was far too cold to swim, but she thought about how refreshing it would be to dive into the water. Maybe that could finally clear her head.

"I didn't know you smoked." The voice startled her. Who the voice belonged to startled her even more.

"Can I bum one?" Santana rasped out. Rachel didn't answer; she just handed over her pack without looking at her new neighbor.

They both stood in silence, letting the smoke fall out of their mouths and the silence of the crisp air carry them into different parts of their mind.

The two of them had barely spoken since they graduated. They weren't much of anything to one another when they were in school. They once were tormentor and tormentee, but that ended when Santana abruptly called off her daily slushy attack out of the blue. Rachel always suspected it had something to do with Brittany, but she was never able to prove it.

They competed for solos in glee. Both with extremely powerful voices, used in completely different ways. Rachel almost always won out over the other girl. She thinks it has something to do with Mr. Shue pitying her level of social outcast. She was his protégé, or whatever.

No, Rachel and Santana weren't friends. They weren't acquaintances. They were merely two people who shared a few mutual friends.

Until –

"You have to stop." The taller girl stated as if there should be no question of intent. Rachel turned her head at this.

"Excuse me?" Was all she returned.

"With Quinn. You have to stop." Santana never met her eyes. She just took another drag of her cigarette and slowly let the smoke fill the air.

Rachel felt the blow to her gut and a panic raise into her throat. _What? Wait, what? _"What?"

"Don't play stupid, Berry." Santana rolled her eyes, her head, and then her body to face the smaller brunette.

"I really don't know –" Rachel started on defending herself. Defending Quinn. Defending whatever non-relationship relationship they recently began.

"Shut up. Okay? Shut up for once." And Rachel did. "I can tell. It's so fucking obvious to anybody who cares enough to look for it. But you have to stop."

There was really no reason in arguing with her at this point, so Rachel just nodded her head to tell her to continue with whatever reason she knew she was going to hear whether she likes it or not.

"First, who the hell knew? You, Berry? You and Miss Celibacy club? No shit." Santana let out a small laugh at the mere thought of the two of them in any sort of _thing_. "I always knew Q was playin' for the all girls team, I mean, duh. But you are so fucking boy obsessed it makes me want to barf."

Rachel raised her eyebrow. This wasn't the direction she thought the conversation was heading…

"Okay, but stop." And then seriousness came crashing back down onto the shore. "Okay. You have to stop." _Was that? Was that a pleading tone?_

"Look, Santana, I can assure you that whatever you think is going on between Quinn and myself is merely a misunderstanding. I will admit to some rouge flirting here and there, however it begins and ends with that. I respect the courtship that Quinn has entered upon with Finn, and while I don't necessarily agree with the two of them joining in wedlock, I respect their decision. I harbor no ill feelings towards either party, and wish them all the best in their future endeavors." _Phew. Am I a good actress or what? Nailed that one out of the park!_

"Fucking bullshit, Berry." _Or not. _"First, you and Q have barely said four words to each other since you got here. That was tip off one. I know you well enough to know that if you weren't fucking each other brains out, then this," she gestured to the girl in front of her, "would be spewing to everyone in that house. You haven't talked to anyone since you got here, and you ain't shy."

"People aren't always in the mood to talk." _Ha! Take that and shove it._

"Second," _again, or not. _"I'm not a moron. I can see the looks you two have been giving each other all day. Nothing says 'I want to have your lady babies' like eye fucking across a game of Pictionary." _Is that what Pictionary says?_

"Third, and here is the one that, well, I mean I know you can't argue your way out of this one… I saw your texts."

"You what!" Rachel all but yelled. _Those are private._

"Yeah, well, I had to know for sure. Sheesh, she should probably put your name in her phone book as something a _little_more creative than 'Barbara'. Seriously? What's she in your phone as? Blondie?"

"Lucy." Rachel answers quietly without even thinking. Immediately regretting the response at all.

"Look Dwarf," despite the pet name, her tone immediately lowers and softens. Whatever she is about to say is final word, "I've known Q my whole life. I get that we kind of treat each other like shit or whatever, but she's the closest thing to family I got. I'm not a fan of this whole, barefoot and pregnant thing either, okay? I think Finn is kind of a tool. But she's not ready for this. Her parents would cut her off faster than, shit, it would just be really fast. And she is nowhere near emotionally ready to handle a head case like you. And I mean that in the nicest way possible." _Gee, thanks?_

"Do you get what I am trying to say here?" Santana asks, her head tilting to the side.

"No, not really, no." Rachel shakes her head.

"Sex is easy for Quinn. It's closed off, it's unemotional, and it's unattached. Take it from me, I know. She doesn't know what the hell she wants right now. But I can tell you what she doesn't want. She doesn't want to go to law school, she doesn't want to please her parents like she thinks, and she doesn't want to marry Finn."

"I really don't see what this has to do with m-"

"Because." _Dammit, do I ever get to speak? _"You are pushing her to think about things she is not ready to think about. She puts on this hard exterior but she is so fragile. She thinks she can fuck you and not care after, but she does. Of all the people in the world, you are the _one_ person she can't ignore. That girl has been in love with you since day one. This is just going to push her further away."

"With all do respect, Santana, I really don't think you are right. For starters, the relationship Quinn and I share is nothing more than a series of brief, fun, and casual encounters. I assure you that the feelings Quinn harbors for me are nothing of the romantic sort. No more so than an infatuation with the unattainable. She would be mortified if she knew I was divulging any of this information without her consent, however, it is evident that you are already more privy to the nature of our affiliation than either of us had intended. I would appreciate if you said nothing to her about this, seeing as how it would only do more harm than good, and please just keep this conversation between us." _That should do it._

"Berry, you really are dense." _That's all she got from that?_

"And you are out of line."

"You are only going to fuck her over, Berry. This _thing_ with you two. Just…just please don't fucking play with her, okay? Don't lead her to the alley and then beat her with a bat. At least let her know before you do."

"I know her well enough to know she isn't being led anywhere." Rachel clutches her arms around herself in defense. The conversation really took a turn she wasn't expecting. Also, the mere thought of beating anybody with a bat was absolutely preposterous.

"You don't know shit about her." Was Santana's parting words before she was back inside her home.

And maybe she was right; maybe Rachel didn't know anything about Quinn.

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**Insert shameless beg for reviews here... completely shameless.**


	9. Chapter 9: Unsaid Pt 2

A/N: Annnnnd we're back! I've been hella busy relocating and whatnot, haven't had internet, etc etc. BUT I hope you guys are still interested in this. Your reviews have been wonderful!

We should be moving along from here.

Part 2 of the Bridal Shower here... much more Fabs (their abbrev. name) in this one.

ENJOY

Disclaimer: Nope, still not mine.

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It took all of one minute, just sixty seconds, for Rachel to process what Santana had just thrown in her face. And there was no way she would stand for it.

How dare she? How dare she criticize what she didn't have the first clue about? It wasn't her place. It wasn't her life to dictate. And it sure as shit wasn't her relationship to intrude upon.

Rachel stormed back into the house with every intention on telling her so. Telling her she didn't know the first thing about Quinn's relationship with Finn, or herself. She really was going to. She slid the glass door from the patio to the kitchen open with every 98 pounds of her behind it.

She spotted the fiery Latina the second she walked through the door and took a deep breath. She wasn't sure what she was going to say exactly, but she would wing it. She would just march right up to the taller brunette and give her a piece of her mind about everything she had just said about –

Quinn.

The blonde stopped her in her tracks. Actually, the fact that the aforementioned girl was talking in a hushed tone at the kitchen sink _to_ the blasphemous Latina is what stopped her.

Her heart sank.

Was Santana saying these things to Quinn? Was she telling her she knew? Was she telling her to stop in the same way she had just told Rachel?

Panic and bile rose up into her throat and her head began to spin.

_No. She couldn't be. She'll ruin everything._

Rachel may not know everything about well, anything, when it came to the blonde, but she knew enough. She knew if Santana led Quinn to believe she knew anything of their adulterous affair, it would send the blonde into a tailspin.

She can't take the risk that Quinn will pull away from her completely. She knows what they are, fuck buddies. She knows that Quinn is only sleeping with her to fulfill some last-hurrah teen fantasy. It's exhilarating, it's forbidden, and it's against everything she knew of Quinn in their youth. The one thing she knew had never changed, control. Quinn had to have control. And Rachel knew if the blonde thought for one moment that somebody else, somebody like Santana, was butting in on that control –

Maybe, well, maybe if she does it first, she thinks. Maybe if she can tell Quinn that people are starting to catch on to them, if she can at least let the blonde know that they need to lay low for a while, or keep it more secret, or at least tell the girl to stop glaring at her so obviously, then the shit storm that would brew could be put at ease.

"Quinn!" She yelled before any thoughts could continue to spin.

The two girls immediately turned to the girl who had so quietly entered into their space. Undetected.

Rachel didn't need a mirror to tell her she looked disheveled. She knew she was short of breath from the panic attack that was moments away from setting in and her cheeks were flushed from the racing she had been doing in her mind.

It must have been obvious to the two-thirds of the former unholy trinity that stood before her. The interruption issued her a raised eyebrow from Quinn and an eye-roll from Santana. The latter of the two quickly set the cup she had been holding on the counter before stalking towards the somewhat shaking brunette.

"Chill, Dwarf." She said in a hushed tone as she passed, before looking over her shoulder at a still rather confused looking blonde. "Baby mama is all yours." And then she was gone.

"Yeah?" Quinn said with such nonchalance before turning back to the sink to, what appeared to be, finish washing dishes.

Rachel carefully made her way over to the other girl. Every step she took was one step closer to an unknown ticking time bomb. _If Santana told her, I have about three seconds before that dirty, soapy water is thrown in my face, I have five seconds before people run in, and 10 seconds before I have to think of a logical excuse to why I am sopping wet._

But none of those things happened. She was simply met with the profile of a girl who rarely met her eyes to begin with.

"Can…um… can," She coughed out the words stuck in her dry throat, "Can we talk for a minute?"

The girl next to her stopped and dropped a bowl into the water carefully before turning to face her fully. "Rachel," She began in a hushed voice, sounding of tiredness and reluctance.

Rachel's brown eyes met hazel and watched them soften under her gaze. Almost as if, for the blonde, looking into Rachel's eyes melted away any anger. A trick the brunette didn't know she previously possessed.

"I'm guessing this is a talk we can't have down here, in front of everyone." It wasn't a question. Rachel nodded her confirmation.

"Come on, then." Rachel followed.

* * *

Rachel really wasn't sure how they had gotten upstairs. She didn't remember the walk up, or down the hall, or walking into a guest room that looked much like Lily Pulitzer threw up all over it. It was _not_ a color pattern she would have ever pictured to even be near a house Santana would live in, no matter how many pouty faces Brittany had given her.

She was also pretty positive by now that her minor freak out over the Quinn v. Santana 'debacle' in the kitchen had been completely unwarranted. She hadn't been thrown from the top of the stairs and her hair was still attached to her head.

"Was there something you wanted to talk about?" Quinn turned to her with an agitation in her voice and a hand running through her hair. A glowing sign of frustration if she had ever seen one

Rachel now battled with her second internal struggle. To tell Quinn, or not to tell her?

She was so sure at first that that would be the proper way to diffuse any impending situation. Give the blonde a proper out, if she so wanted to take it. Give her at least the benefit of the doubt, and allow her to make up her own mind whether or not she wanted to continue this charade of something nearly akin to 'leave the 50 on the nightstand and don't make any noise as you leave, another satisfied customer come and gone.'

Quinn had the right to know. She had every right to know that her best friend of God knows how many years, was more than clued in to her dirty trysts with the former dork with knee socks. She was, after all, one half of the frowned upon relationship.

"Or…" And Quinn stalked towards her, with every step, another thought pushed out of her mind. She knew that look.

Before she could register the girl now directly in front of her, pale hands wrapped around the arms she didn't realize had been crossed around her midsection, peeling them away and leaving her chest exposed, despite the clothes that hung between them. She halfheartedly tried to pry her hands free, but the grip was strong. She had to get this out there before she lost her nerve, and her train of thought.

Her mouth opened and shut in a grunt of pain as she felt a dull throb in her back. _When did the door get there?_ The hands wrapped around her wrists forced small tan ones above, pinned to the oak slab.

Dark hazel eyes bore into chocolate, challenging a protest out of the smaller girl. One that was caught in the back of her throat, but quickly stuffed deeper by a leg slipping between her own, wetness pooling against better judgment.

She had to, she had to tell Quinn. That's why she came up here.

Rachel turned her head away, hoping to regain some confidence that would never come if she continued to stare at the girl in front of her. She resistance was futile as a hot mouth descended upon a tan neck, sucking the pulse point it never had to search for.

An uncontrollable moan escaped her lips, turning into a groan when she tried to swallow it down. Her hips canted up against the firm muscle flexing between her legs, and another moan made its way into the cool dark room.

The lips that had been sucking on her neck released with a pop and a warm tongue licked a slow line to the base of her ear. A spot the blonde knew made the diva weak at the knees. Hands that had previously been holding hers in place traveled down bare arms and settled on small hips, guiding them in their thrusts.

The lips and tongue came to a halt on her neck and short hot breaths ghosted across the shell of her ear and she was positive she was going to have to throw out the lacy underwear she was currently wearing. Rachel was well on her way to coming without even being touched. Just knowledge of what that mouth could do send her stimuli into a frenzy. A forehead rested against her shoulder and her head instinctively turned into the contact. The pale forehead slid across skin sleet with a thin coat of sweat and rested against a matching one in front of her.

Breathing in the same air, Rachel was positive their mouths had never been this close.

The room temperature continued to rise and panting breaths were echoing in the silence. Pleas of desperation and promises of relief mixing with sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs.

_Wait._

The noise outside the door rocketed Rachel back into consciousness and she pushed the blonde off her.

"What?" Quinn asked as she stumbled backwards. Confusion evident all across delicate features.

"People are right outside." The brunette forced out through labored breath as she tried to regain some equilibrium.

The smirk the blonde previously held was replaced by what appeared to be a tinge of annoyance as she barked out, "So?"

"So, I came up here to talk, Quinn. Not to be fucked up against a wall while your entire elitist friends sat downstairs playing pin-the-train-on-the-bride! Don't you have any regard for whether people hear us or not!" Anger Rachel didn't know she was currently housing boiled out without warning. Taking both her and the girl in front of her back with sheer force.

"Are you kidding me right now?" the taller girl spat with a frustration Rachel could only regard as sexual.

" No! Not everything always has to be about sex, Quinn." The brunette tossed back. A damn had been broken and there was no sealing the floodgates now.

"Oh, really?" she chuckled out a harsh truth. Everything between them had only ever been sex.

"I am more than just a body. I'm sick of you treating me like your little play thing." She was fuming.

"How do you want to be treated? Like my _girlfriend_?" The word sounded so bitter on the tip of such a talented tongue. The delivery made Rachel cringe.

"Please." She scoffed and seethed all at the same time. "Don't flatter yourself. You are a good lay, but you would make an atrocious partner. Clearly. Faithful and trustworthy are qualities I value, and obviously two that you do not hold." It was a low blow, and Rachel regretted it the second the words left her mouth.

It was too late, though. And Quinn turned red, steam pouring from elf-like ears.

"Fuck you." She bit. "Fuck you and the fucking diva train you rode in on. You aren't some fucking angel yourself, _Berry_. You don't know shit about me and you don't know shit about who I am!"

"Who are you then, Quinn?" Rachel probed. "Tell me who you are since I clearly have no goddamn clue."

Both girls just stared at one another. Breaths labored in the air and the sound of hearts pounding could have probably been heard for miles. No doubt, the words shouted had been heard faintly by the guests downstairs.

"What do you want from me!" The blonde yelled, looking up from the spot her eyes had been trained on the ground.

Rachel didn't answer. She didn't think, she just moved.

In a flash she was in front of the blonde. She wasn't sure how her legs got her there, and she wasn't sure what to do now. She just looked up at a red face and silently begged for action.

A hand on the back of her head forced her up towards soft lips as they met in a bruising kiss. It was nothing like she had once imagined. It was harsh and unapologetic. It was forced and desperate. Hands grasping for anything they could reach as anger melted into despair. Despair that this was _not_ a romantic comedy, and that one kiss wouldn't solve all their fucked up problems.

Against every ounce of her better judgment, Rachel sighed. She fucking _sighed_ and resigned into the girl holding her up and the lips that, now, more softly grazed hers.

The kiss became slower as a tongue she had only known to be skilled in other ways, showed her talent on a whole new level. It traced her bottom lip requesting entry, which she gave without thought. Tongues didn't battle, they gave way. Hers succumbing to the fate it had brought itself, an ironic metaphor to their relationship, to be dominated and controlled and then released on its way.

The kiss came to a natural end. The initial fuse burning out and leaving two people even more confused than before. A plump bottom lip rested between her swollen ones and just stayed. Neither girl moved. Neither girl breathed, they just rested between each other. The taste of vanilla lip-gloss mixed with… what was that? Salt?

Rachel reached up to wipe a trail of water falling down her cheek and the notion that they were tears hit her like a swift punch in the gut.

Suddenly, Rachel's mind kicked into overdrive as she pushed the taller girl off her for the second time that night.

"No!" She choked out through a yell. "You can't just…" The words caught in her throat.

"I can't what?" Annoyed once again formulated in front of her. Annoyed at being pushed or annoyed at being told no, Rachel was unsure.

"You can't just… kiss me, and expect me to fucking… you just can't Quinn!" the last of her sentence trailed off and she squeezed her eyes closed, willing the tears to stay hidden. She let out a shaky breath and softly, "You can't do that."

"What do you want from me?" Quinn spoke again. This time, dejected. Her voice was strained and weak and it almost made Rachel give in. Almost.

"Absolutely nothing." And with that, Rachel Berry was done.

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_**REVIEWS ARE THE BEST CANDY EVER! Muah.**_


	10. Chapter 10: It's Time To Begin

A/N: First, I am excited Glee is back. But definitely missing the original crew. Second, many have been asking for some insight to Rachel's inner demons. This might help a little. She is a little too lost in herself to really recognize them herself right now. Sometimes we don't.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Wish I did.

* * *

Rachel made it 8 days. Only a little over a week until she found herself missing the company of her former enemy.

They hadn't spoken since Rachel marched down the stairs of Santana and Brittany's two story home and demanded Kurt take her home immediately. Quinn hadn't followed her out of the bedroom, and Kurt never asked any questions.

It was day 8 of subconsciously mopping around her and Kurt's shared apartment, in pajama's she wasn't sure was terribly clean, feigning a chronic migraine to avoid the harsh reality of sunlight.

She wished she could pretend it was just the Quinn situation that put her in this depression, but the brutal honesty of it all was that she hadn't been alright for quite sometime. Not really. Not since she left Lima.

In Lima, Rachel was a star. She was the best voice, the best actress, the one who was going somewhere. That simple knowledge was enough to push her through the gray halls, through her days as the school punching bag, and towards something bigger.

That something had always been New York. Every since she was old enough to remember, the shining lights of the city looked like home. No, she had never been there before their trip to Nationals her junior year, but that didn't stop her from knowing it where she belonged. It was were all budding stars belonged.

So why did she feel like such an outsider now?

She wasn't a star yet. She didn't have what she wanted. She was single, she was borderline impoverished, and she wasn't anything ridiculously special. At least, she didn't feel like it. Not even venturing outside the walls of NYADA, she knew countless people who were more talented, prettier, and had a drive that could flatten her in her place. No, she wasn't a star here, she was just another small girl with just another big dream.

"You look like somebody who just god dumped." Kurt laughed off as he walked in to find his live-in-best-friend slumped over a soggy bowl of cereal and a copy of _Ulysses. _His cheerful voice snapped her out of her sorrowful self-deprecation.

Rachel looked down at her stained with God-knows-what _Property of McKinley Athletics_ t-shirt and fuzzy Clifford slippers. Her hair felt matted and oily and she knew her face was beginning to break out after days of neglecting her nighttime skin regiment. She really did look pathetic. She felt it too.

"Why are you reading that?" He lifted a questioning brow to her as he set his hand on top of rather dense book.

She didn't want to tell him that by reading it, she felt it was the only way to know anything about Quinn. She knew it was the blonde's type of book. But the theory of it all was over the top and dramatically pathetic. He wouldn't ever understand that.

"I didn't get dumped, Kurt. I simply am not feeling up to par lately, and have chosen to let myself have a few days." Her defense went up immediately as she brought another spoonful of cereal to her mouth.

"Alright, Fruit Loop. Whatever you say." She knew he didn't believe her.

Rachel's heart sunk for her relationship with Kurt. They had become more than strained over the past few months and there was nobody to blame but herself.

He had never been anything but a good friend to her through the years, her best friend, her person, save for a couple diva solo-stealing moments in their high school glee club, and that time she accidently left him in a cab on their way home from a bar. But he always stepped aside to let her be the drama queen she was in the deepest of her core. He never questioned when she demanded the most absurd things, and he was always there to pick up the pieces when those things didn't go her way. The fair skinned boy knew everything about her, and she him. It almost scared her just how much.

Which is what closed her off to him when this whole Quinn debacle began. She knew with one look, he would be able to read right through her. Read through her lies. It went without saying that her best friend would be less than approving of her downtime extracurriculars with his stepbrother's fiancé. Blood is thicker than water, even if that blood is synthetic.

Those walls went up immediately. Walls that had been under construction since high school, when the first slushy was thrust in her face paired with an insult at the direction of her argyle sweaters. She was always able to keep up this façade, but the pain was thinly veiled with the urge to fit in. So when she moved to New York she promised herself she wouldn't put herself in the same position again. The big apple was her chance to get it right, to be a functional member of the masses, to live in peace and harmony with the elitist mentality of those surrounding her.

With the exception of Kurt. Up until a few months ago, those walls were collapsible. They were put up in the morning when she left her home and went to class or on auditions. But they were taken down the second she walked across the welcome-mat and into a safe sanctuary often filled with the smell of cinnamon candles and Barbara's sweet voice. But the more and more she left those walls up when she was around Kurt, the more and more they became permanent fixtures of her being. Rachel feared they would soon become cemented in place.

The small brunette girl felt smaller than she ever had before. She wished with all the power she held within her she could force those walls down around Kurt once more. She wished she could tell him how she felt, why she was doing what she was doing. If only she knew exactly those answers herself. Internally she was begging him to chip away the structure, to peel back her layers, and to force her to face her own demons.

"Talk to me, mouse." Rachel smiled at his voice as he sat down next to her. Maybe he could still read her thoughts, even just slightly.

_This _was the Kurt she loved. So for him, she would try to knock down those concrete barricades.

"What if I don't make it, Kurt?" Her voice sounded so small, if she hadn't felt the vibration in her throat, she wouldn't have known it came from her at all.

"Make what, honey?" He reached out and laid a gentle hand on her arm, forcing her eyes away from the bowl in front of her and onto him. Eyes that were blurry and stinging with tears. Eyes that made him take her into his arms.

"Shhh… you're going to make it." It was the most comforting thing he knew to say. This wasn't the Rachel he knew. She was small and unsure. The Rachel _he_ knew would have plowed somebody down for the part of chimneysweeper if need be.

"But what if I don't? Huh? Not everybody makes it out here." Her tears had turned into full blown sobs now, choked out in a way that was sure to leave her throat raw.

And in true best friend fashion, Kurt jumped into the role.

"You listen to me, Rachel Berry." He pulled her back to arms length and shook her once hard. "I _know_ you are going to make it. I know that one day, your name is going to be so bright and so obnoxiously _you_ out there on the main stage that not even your biggest enemy will be able to stay away. You are going to be America's Sweetheart, movies, musicals, multi-platinum record sales. Mariah will hate you, Celine will hate you, and dare I say it, even Barbara will hate you." The tears had begun to cease before he continued. "I don't know what happened to you. You used to be so bright and so full of life. You used to storm out of your own bedroom because your alarm clock refused to stop time when you wanted it to. What happened to that girl? The one who believed anything was possible?" He reached his hand up to wipe away the remainder of her tears.

"She grew up. She got real." The bitterness in her voice didn't need to be hidden. It couldn't be, even if she tried.

"Then put some magic back into this gray, gray world, Rachel Berry. If anybody can, it's you, my little golden nugget." His words were so true and so genuine, Rachel felt them in every part of her body.

Sniffles filled the silence of the apartment as Kurt got up to retrieve the tissues from the coffee table.

"She doesn't know what she's giving up." He added after a few minutes of calculated silence. The noise didn't startle her as much as the context.

"Wha-" She began in panic and confusion before he laid a gentle hand on top of hers.

"This Lucy girl. I'm guessing your overall mood change these last few days have something to do with her. I haven't seen you this upset since, well, I don't know. I just know, whatever it is, is her fault and she's an idiot for it." He offered with a smile and a shoulder shrug. Something about his words was meant to be comforting, and in a way, it was what she needed to hear. Despite him not knowing in the slightest about the realness of the situation.

"It's more complicated than that, I'm afraid." She let out through a sigh; letting the weight of the last few minutes sink down upon her.

"It may be. But if it's meant to be, it will work out. If not, then you'll move on."

"Yeah…" She let the word drag on. "Yeah. Maybe your right."

* * *

Rachel was nervous. That fact was evident through they way she kept spinning her coffee cup in circles on top the somewhat smudged table below. It was evident through the way she lifted her eyes to the door every three seconds and shook her head, mentally chastising herself.

_She's not coming. You were stupid for asking._

Rachel kept her eyes trained from the door to her cup, occasionally checking her phone in case for whatever magical reason the sound went out and so did the screen and she received a message she hadn't noticed already came through.

_Well, good try anyway. I knew this was a long shot to begin with._

Just as she was about to stand up, a shadow cast overtop her and a sweet smell of designer perfume invaded her nostrils. She looked up to what she hoped would be a new beginning and smiled.

"I'm glad you came." She said in a small voice.

"I'm glad you called." The husky, low, yet undoubtedly feminine voice responded as she took a seat across from the nervous brunette.

The two women stared at each other for a given time, exchanging awkward smiles and nervous attempts to start conversation. They talked about various things; favorite movies, favorite singers, families and growing up. It was nice to finally talk. It was nice to be listened to.

Yes, Rachel as going to start taking back her life, her self esteem. She was going to start doing it now.

She was going to start with Angela.

* * *

_**The End.**_

_**Just kidding. Guess we have to see how Quinn will handle all this Angela nonsense, won't we.**_

_**Reviews are beautiful things. **_


	11. Chapter 11: New Beginnings

A/N: Big update (for me anyway). Hope you enjoy. I would love some feedback on this. Ya'll have been great!

Disclaimer: I don't think I have to say they aren't mine. I am clearly not RIB.

* * *

"So, you sent her to a crack house?" Angela gets out amidst her laughter. Her eyes are twinkling and her smile is blinding as she shoots it in Rachel's direction.

"While I will admit, it wasn't my proudest moment, there was no telling what she was capable of! I was not in the position to risk my seat as the lead vocalist. Not when I had so many other threats lingering around me at the time. Up until then, Santana –"

"The bitchy lesbian cheerleader." Angela reminded Rachel she had been listening.

"Correct. She was my biggest threat for solos of the female variety. Tina was far too shy at that time and Brittany, sweet, sweet Brittany, really only wanted to dance. But Santana was in my way enough as it was. Well, her and Quinn. Her voice was…" Rachel let herself trail off. Now was not the time to start reminiscing about Quinn and her voice and her beautiful hazel eyes and the wonderful way her bravado sent sparks straight from Rachel's spine all the way to –

"Well, for what it's worth, I am _sure_ you had nothing to be worried about." The redhead girl in front of her reached out and placed a confident hand on top of Rachel's.

She couldn't help but notice how she didn't feel the same burn she did when Quinn touched her, but she decided not to dwell on it. This felt nice. This was a start, a beginning, a first date, but it felt nice. Not wonderful, and she was a little nervous at first to make a decent impression, but she was content with her surroundings.

"So tell me more about Georgia. I've actually never been to the deep south, but I can only imagine it is quite a culture shock to New York." Rachel offered.

"It was an interesting place to grow up. That's for sure. Everything was 'yes ma'am' and 'no sir'. I was raised under the conditions of pleasantries and the house of God, but it wasn't nearly as stifling as the movies make it out to be. Not until I came out. You would have thought OJ had just moved in with the way the neighbors stared at me. But my parents loved and accepted me, and that's really all that mattered." Angela replied somberly. Her tone was slightly pinged with a sadness that Rachel could relate to, but it was still bright. Everything about her was bright.

It was a breath of fresh air Rachel hadn't known she had been missing.

* * *

The two parted some time later when the coffee barista informed them it was closing time. They said their goodbyes on the sidewalk and promised to do it again sometime soon.

Rachel fished her phone out of her bag to check the time; she had forgotten it hours ago somewhere between her story of Mr. Shue's proposal to Miss Pillsbury and how Santana had been outed ever so viciously by Finn. She hadn't even heard it buzz, alerting her to the text message she now found to be unread.

_**Lucy Bray: 1 New Message**_

Rachel couldn't help but feel a little aggravated that _now_ was the time Quinn chose to make some sort of contact.

_**Can we talk?**_

It was something she wasn't expecting. Too little, too late.

_I don't really see what there is to talk about anymore._

And she really didn't. She was going to move on. She was done being a toy, a sexual object to be used at the other girl's disposal whenever she got lonely.

_**Please Rachel.**_

She could almost hear the desperation through the words on the screen of her smart phone. It was enough to give in just a little.

_Whatever you want to say, you can say it to me right now._

_**Can I come over?**_

_Kurt is home._

_**I don't like the way we left things.**_

_I don't like a lot of things about the past couple months, Quinn. But what's done is done._

_**I just want to talk. Just come over for a little while. We don't have to do anything, I just want to talk. **_

Rachel rolled her eyes. Of course they didn't have to _do_ anything. She was a grown adult and could make her own choices when it came to her sexual ventures. She didn't need Quinn's permission for when she did and did not take off her pants.

_It's too late and I'm tired._

In more than one way, she thought to herself.

_**Please.**_

She knew this would be a bad idea. She knew it as she flagged down a cab and gave them the address of the apartment the opposite direction of hers.

* * *

Rachel only knocked once before the door was flung open to reveal a girl she hadn't seen in a while. The blonde hair and hazel eyes were familiar, but the girl who stood in front of her was vulnerable and small and hesitant. She hadn't seen that girl since her sophomore year of high school.

"I'm glad you came." A broken voice echoed the words she had spoke herself just a few hours ago. Only these words weren't nervously excited, they were flat and afraid.

Rachel pushed her way past the taller blonde and into the foyer inside. "What do you want, Quinn?" Quick and fast, get to the point and rip off the emotional band-aid.

"Are you thirsty? I can make you some tea. Or I have some wine if you want." Quinn offered shyly only barely meeting Rachel's tough glare.

"I don't want anything other than for you to tell me why you called me over here at one o'clock in the morning to talk about things that, quite frankly, I am most certainly past wanting to discuss." Rachel's patience was wearing thin. It had been for a while now.

"Can we sit?" Quinn's voice cracked. Rachel wasn't sure where on earth the HBIC Quinn was and when this version of the girl has taken over her body.

Rachel walked over to the couch and sat. She couldn't remember if she had ever been anything but propped up against the couch or laying down on it. She definitely couldn't ever remember being near it with this amount of clothing on.

"I know you don't want to talk to me." Quinn began after a moment of uncomfortable silence. Rachel scoffed. "I get it. I've treated you like shit. But I don't want you to hate me for it."

Rachel was trying to hold down bubbling anger. If Quinn thought she could just sit here, sounding sad and sorry, and Rachel would just forgive her for… what exactly?

She couldn't really remember _exactly_ what it was that Quinn had done wrong, other than the obvious betrayal, but that wasn't even directed at her. I mean, sure their whole relationship was convoluted and dysfunctional, but that was how they always had been. She had let herself into Quinn's life again, after years of non-communication, for one reason only. She knew that the girl had wanted her around for sex. It wasn't like she expected Quinn to get over any lingering demons from her past, admit an undying love with Rachel, leave Finn and run off into the sunset. She could be realistic when she felt it was most appropriate.

She wasn't really made at Quinn at the end of it all. She was more upset with herself for letting her feelings deepen over the past few months. She knew she was treading on unsolid ground when it all began. Quinn was not somebody her heart ever took lightly. Throughout their years in school together, she had this unexplainable draw to the other girl. She wanted to put her together with a hot glue gun and love and watch her blossom into the wonderful person she knew Quinn would be. She wanted to know everything about what made the blonde girl smile, what made her cry, what made her laugh, and _God_, if she didn't love that laugh with her entire being. She wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

But Rachel also knew what was reality and what was fantasy. She knew that she would never get to have Quinn in the ways her teenage self so much desired. Quinn was unattainable. So when they met again only recently in a seedy bar, she knew she was going to take whatever the world was willing to present her. Despite knowing it could possibly break her even more in the end.

Rachel sighed. "I don't hate you Quinn. I just, I can't do this anymore." Her voice was tired, dejected.

"I know." Quinn nodded her head somberly. Her eyes trained on a lose thread hanging off the throw pillow lying across her lap.

"It's not right," Rachel continued. Trying to convince Quinn. Trying to convince herself.

"I know." Quinn repeated.

"Finn would be crushed."

"I know."

"Kurt would never forgive me."

"I know."

"You're getting married."

"I know."

"To a guy who doesn't deserve this. You know he doesn't."

There is no answer and Rachel scooted a little closer on the couch, knees now barely touching. Her voice getting even quieter.

"Everyone would think we were crazy." Rachel isn't even entirely sure who and what at she is referring to or why she cares. And she knows she's getting too close, too intimate.

"I know."

"I think we are crazy." The words are out of her mouth before she knows what she's saying. And it does its job to remove Quinn's attention from the pillow beneath her fingers.

"Rachel…" It's ever so quiet and ever so desperate and Rachel's heart breaks at the vulnerability.

Quinn hesitantly lifts her hand from the pillow and moves towards the soft cheek in front of her. Her head tilts to the side and her eyes roam over the innocent features of the tan face wearing the most pained and confused expression she has ever seen. As soon as her hand makes contact, Rachel lets out a shaky breath.

Never have they been so soft with one another, so open, and with so few words. Their relationship was never built on communication, but at this moment there wasn't a need for any.

It was written all over Rachel's face. Hope and sadness poured from her eyes and love. That's what was swimming in those deep brown eyes. Unhinged, unrequited, unchained love. Quinn knew what it was; Rachel couldn't pretend it wasn't there any longer.

"You can't." Quinn shook her head softly. Her voice was pained and stressed and it cracked when it came out and Rachel had to lean in just to even to hear it.

"I know." It was the brunette's turn to shy her eyes away and repeat the words that had been slipping from Quinn's mouth only moments ago.

"I can't." It was choked out and it was brief and oh so very small, but it conveyed more to Rachel about Quinn's fears than anything else she had ever witnessed.

"I know." Came the once diva's not-so-diva response.

A thumb rubbed so softly against her cheek and Rachel couldn't hold tears back any longer. She had never wanted anything more than this contact, and the fact that she knew it could never be received again shattered her heart like glass.

"Look at me." The blonde said after a moment. And Rachel reluctantly lifted her eyes to search the ones in front of her. They searched for lies, and truth, and hope, and fear, and sadness. But mostly they just found a lonely longing. Something that might resemble love. They found Quinn.

Neither moved, neither spoke and neither breathed. Not until a tear trailed down Rachel's face and Quinn wiped the pad of her thumb across it, hoping to wipe away any sadness she had caused the girl in front of her. It would never be that simple.

Rachel wasn't expecting a lot out of her trip here. Maybe some yelling, some trivial attempt at lust filled sex, but not _this._ And definitely not the feeling of Quinn's lips against her.

But there they were. So soft and so gentle. They were placed hesitantly on hers with barely any movement. The kiss was tentative and shy, unlike their first just over a week ago. And as lips she had only once been able to dream about moved against her own, she melted further and further into sorrow.

This was only their second kiss, but it wasn't a beginning, or a middle, it was an end. An end to something she hadn't let her mind register it wanted fully until very recently. So she let herself feel. She let herself indulge in the last time she could have Quinn in any way, because she knew once they parted it would be too painful to stay.

The tears flew down her cheeks more rapidly as the kiss intensified. Her tongue brushed over cautious lips and was granted access into the mouth of the girl she had always wanted to be somehow imbedded in, body, mind and soul.

The fire inside her burned and ached and passion was simmered down to pain. Pain that hammered in her chest. Her hands clung to the loose fitting shirt Quinn wore and desperately hung onto this moment. She clung to the sheer force of everything she longed for crashing into her. Knowing that in moments it would simply…disappear.

When the need for air became to great, their kiss softened. Neither girl wanting to let go and say goodbye. Goodbye for the last time.

But they had to. And they did.

When they parted, Rachel saw the tracks of shed tears against porcelain skin in front of her. It only served to make her own intensify. The moment was too strong, too emotionally demanding, and she could no longer bear to look at the girl in front of her, but she couldn't let go just yet.

Foreheads rested against one another as they breathed in the same air. Neither held onto their tears and they wept. Wept for the end of something they never once discussed.

Quinn placed one last kiss to Rachel's swollen lips, as hard as she possibly could, and pulled back to rest her head again.

"Don't you ever stop dreaming, kid." She whispered into their mingled breath.

"Don't you stop either." Was all she could manage through a choked out sob before she pulled away quickly, gathered her things, and walked out the door. Walked out of Quinn's life, like she knew she needed to do.

* * *

Rachel wandered around the city for a while. The thought of going home as per her usual routine was something she couldn't bare. She had to think.

She wasn't sure when she closed herself off to realizing Quinn had made such a mark on her heart. She thought she was alright handling a strictly physical relationship. Whenever Quinn had presented something a little reflective of intimacy in the past, she had shied away instinctively. Even though she told herself she was done with things after the bridal shower, it wasn't until she truly had to let Quinn go that she felt that nauseas pain creep throughout her whole body.

She reasoned with herself that it was simply because it was the end of a chapter, given, a fucked up and short chapter, but still a chapter in her life none-the-less. When things end it's always sad, no matter how badly you know it needs to.

But something about this felt different. It didn't feel like when she had broken up with ex girlfriends or ex boyfriends. It felt like she was giving away a part of herself. A part that had been so attached to her for so long she didn't even realize it was there.

Maybe, she thought, that high school crush had never dwindled, but only intensified with time. Maybe it was never going to be that easy to part. Maybe she never wanted to.

She walked home in silence, letting her thoughts stew in her mind and her tears streak down her face.

She was crying to the end, she told herself. It made it much easier to deal with that way.

As soon as she walked into her apartment she heard Kurt rustling in the background. She wiped quickly at her eyes to hide the fact that she had been crying for hours, desperate to avoid the questions bound to come if he noticed.

What she wasn't expecting was a livid Kurt to walk around the corner.

"How could you not fucking tell me?" He demanded.

Rachel snapped into gear, immediately searching her mind for what on earth he could be talking about. "Tell you what?"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you think that any of this was okay?" He was fuming and marching and pacing around. She had never seen him so angry.

"Kurt, I really don't have the energy to play some vindictive guessing game right now. So if you could just –"

"Lucy? Some girl named Lucy Bray? You mean Lucy Quinn Fabray?" He cut her off, shaking in anger.

"Kurt…" She breathed out. After everything she just went through, she didn't have the energy to fight, or deny, or explain. She just wanted this saga to be over.

"Finn knows." He says. Throwing every proverbial wrench into the hypothetical machine.

She didn't have anything to say, but panic must have been evident all across her face. Finn knowing was _exactly_ what she wanted to avoid.

"He doesn't know it's you," he offered, his tone beginning to calm. "He just said he knew something was up. He came home tonight and Quinn was in tears. When he tried to ask her what was wrong she just slammed the door in his face and locked him out of the bathroom. He didn't know what to do, so he called me. He said she's been acting really strange lately. Coming home late from outings with friends, refusing to have sex, crying when she thinks he can't hear her. He said he hasn't seen her this upset since the school found out she was Lucy. I put the rest of the pieces together myself."

Rachel didn't, couldn't say anything. There was no use in denying everything. She was busted. A risk she knew she was taking from the beginning. She could only just hope Quinn didn't suffer the consequences.

"How could you, Rachel? I know you aren't the biggest Finn fan in the world, but if he knew what was really going on, it would absolutely crush him." He shook his head and sat down at the kitchen table. "He doesn't know she's stepping out on him, but he is heartbroken that he thinks he's doing something wrong."

"We," she coughed, barely being able to speak the next words without her heart sinking deeper into her chest. "We're done. He doesn't have to worry anymore. She chose him."

"So what? That's supposed to make it all better. You both still did it. She still cheated on him. You still betrayed him. How could you do that?" Kurt had a look of pain and confusion all over his face. He truly wanted to know.

"I couldn't help it."

"That's a cop out reason if I've ever heard one." He scoffed. "I want to know why."

Rachel looked up at him, silently begging to not make her answer. She didn't want to hash out everything she had just spent the last couple hours internally debating. Turns out, she didn't have to answer because it was written all across her face.

"Are you in love with her?" His voice was not accusing or judgmental. Stepbrother Kurt had automatically flipped to best friend Kurt, and that fact alone broke her heart even more.

She nodded her head and the tears she had been fighting began to slip out.

"Oh honey." He immediately was at her side, pulling her into his chest, running soothing hands through her head.

"I know, I know it was so wrong." She choked out through a sob. "She was there and I couldn't help myself. I tried to stop, I tried to. I just don't know what I'm doing." The words were barely understandable and Kurt continued to run his hands through her hair.

"Does she love you?" He asks, hesitating like he's not sure if he even wants to know the answer.

"I didn't think so before tonight." She sobbed even harder before she spoke again, nodding. "But now… I don't know, maybe?" It was the first time she allowed herself to believe so. It was in the way she kissed her, in the pain of the goodbye, in the pain of letting go.

"Shhh." Kurt whispered into her hair. "It's going to be okay."

"I ended it. Or she ended it. I don't know. But it's done." She told him again, wanting to be sure he knew. Wanting to be sure she knew herself. "We're done."

"Sweetheart, I know he's my brother, and I should want to kill you both for doing this to him. But I don't think you are. Call me a sucker for a happy ending. I don't think hers is with him."

"That's her choice to make, Kurt. Not mine." Her tears began to die down.

"Her heart made that choice a long time ago. She just hasn't realized it yet."

Rachel really wanted to believe he was right. But she also knew she had to make herself think he wasn't. She had to move on. She had to build herself again. She had to let Quinn go. For good.

* * *

_**I know most of you thought she had said goodbye to Quinn in the last chapter, but I felt like they both needed that closure. That they both needed to realize exactly what they were walking away from.**_

**_Reviews would be EPIC. And I love EPIC._**

**_Peace, Love, and Football. Less Than 3_**


	12. Chapter 12: Onto the Next One

_A/N: Okay, So I have been MIA for a couple weeks. I hit a road block in where I wanted to go from here. I'm not entirely thrilled with this chapter. But I know where I want to go from here, so that's the bright side. This is short and mostly just a filler to move us on to the next part, but regardless, here it is. I'm back now with hopefully more frequent updates. I would love some feedback and even some suggestions on where you guys want to see this go. Can't hurt to take some things into consideration, could it?_

_Sidenote: I am not a fan of this season of Glee completely forgetting the fact that Quinn ever existed. As Santana would say, no me gusta._

* * *

_3 months later…_

Rachel stood in line patiently waiting, well as patiently as an up-and-coming diva can wait, watching as people zoomed in and out of the busy little coffee shop in Soho.

She had stumbled upon the place one night a few weeks ago when she was coming back from a street fair with Kurt and she absolutely fell in love with it. Something about it was artistic, and poetic, and so simply New York, and it reminded her of somebody she wasn't allowing herself to outwardly think about. Not anymore. Something about the place was warm and inviting and she found herself coming back time and time again.

It had been three months since she began to get her life back on track, put herself back together. And she even had to admit to herself, it had been easier than she had originally anticipated.

She had been going on more auditions, thanks to Kurt, who was now known to leave newspaper clippings and Craigslist print-outs advertising small parts in various plays and musicals around the city. Despite her initial response of brushing them off, she found herself putting herself out more. She had no success as of late, but her confidence boosted a little more with each polite rejection.

It was a start.

As was her budding relationship with Angela.

They gradually moved from coffee dates, to dinner dates, to theatre dates, to sleepovers. They were taking it slow, to Rachel's relief, and they still hadn't classified their relationship, but Rachel knew the redheaded girl wasn't seeing anybody else, and neither was she.

The brunette knew Angela was anxious to label their relationship, but lingering demons kept Rachel from taking that step. She didn't feel she was still hung up on, well, _her_, but jumping right into a relationship after they had…she wouldn't call it broken up because that would mean they were together to begin with… but either way, starting something new and official so soon just didn't feel right.

Kurt had been pushing her towards the blue-eyed beauty. Encouraging her to take the plunge and officially move on. 'It's been months' he would say, 'she's getting married' he would remind her, 'follow your heart' he tried. Although the latter was only said once after they both realized following her heart is what got it broken to begin with.

Angela was a great girl, Rachel reminded herself constantly. She was a sweet southern belle with a great family, a solid career as a kindergarten teacher, and great moral values. She was essentially the polar opposite of, well, _her_.

_Stop comparing them!_ It was a common sentence repeated by her psyche. It never hurt to be reminded.

She was over her.

She was.

She barely ever, only sometimes, but mostly not usually, thought of _her_. It was only when the wind blew in a way where she could smell the morning dew in central park, a subtle scent she associated with the blonde's apartment, and she usually didn't walk through there early in the morning _on purpose._ She was only reminded of the sweet bravado of that melodic voice when she listened to Frank Sinatra, a paradox she still didn't fully understand, and she only listened to him on Sunday mornings. She only dreamed about her once or twice a week, waking up with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat, and even that had dwindled down to be less and less frequent.

She was getting over her better than she thought. She should pat herself on the back.

Screw Kurt for saying she was still in denial.

Every time she felt those memories of skilled hands traveling down the length of her back and a raspy voice echoing in her ear, she quickly replaced it with thoughts of the sweet redhead instead. Thoughts of her charming smile and her calm southern drawl. The way she was always so thoughtful and cleaned the kitchen after she made dinner and knew Rachel liked white wine versus red. She reminded herself of how Angela was supportive and caring and really, really nice. She was. Like, really nice. And it worked sometimes…

And when it didn't… she walked across town and drank coffee.

Alright, so her apartment in Chelsea was absolutely inconveniently located from both Central Park and Soho. And sure, there were places she could sit and read books she didn't and couldn't comprehend closer to where she lived, and sure there were probably places to drink coffee in her own neighborhood. But sometimes it was nice to get out.

It's not her fault the coffee shop was located two blocks from _her_ apartment. It was simple coincidence.

And coincidence was something Rachel rarely questioned.

"Ma'am?" A small voice belonging to the coffee barista who couldn't have been older than 17 broke through her thoughts, alerting Rachel to the fact that she was next in line.

"Oh, hi. My apologies. I'll have a large Café Grande with soy and two pumps of vanilla." She shot a smile at the young girl and searched her purse for her wallet, "one second, I know it's in here… I just…" Her mumbling cut off by an arm reaching around her and handing their card to the waiting barista.

"Make sure it's not too hot, yeah? This ones vocal cords can't afford to be burned. Her voice is too beautiful. And I'll take the same as her."

Rachel froze. A sting of familiarity and want traveled from her ears to her toes under the scratchy voice she could point out anywhere. She hadn't heard that voice in – she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was fine. She was _fine_. She just really needed a second to turn around since her body suddenly became paralyzed. _Dammit_.

"Quinn?" Rachel breathed out. Begging a question that never needed confirmation.

The aforementioned girl chuckled. "Rachel." She repeated in a mock tone, but lacking any malice.

Something about the way her name falls from perfect lips has her intake a sharp breath of air. She can imagine what soft pink lips look like as they form the word, so delicate and bleak. She swears sometimes she can feel them on hers. And the thought makes her feel pathetic as reality punches her in the gut.

"What are you doing here?" the dreamscape has left her and spins around on her heals to come face to face with the source of many sleepless nights and bitter fantasies.

"Oh, you're welcome for the coffee." The blonde rolls her eyes and takes a step back out of the brunette's space, clearly taken back by the bitterness in the other girls tone. "And I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing in SoHo?"

Two coffees are dropped in front of them and Rachel offers a small smile to the young girl who's head ping-ponged between the two girls. No doubt trying to figure out the dicotimy of their relationship. She slips a dollar bill into the tip jar and slid by the taller girl to the sugar counter.

_Deep breaths_, Rachel thought to herself. It's just Quinn. Quinn who was her, sort of, friend once. Quinn who was another inhabitant of a great big city. Quinn who hid her feelings so very well. Quinn who would one day be a Hudson. Quinn who smelled so heavenly. Quinn who knew how to use her tongue in such a way that it made every once of her small lithe body –.

It was _just_ Quinn.

"Let me guess. It's on your paper route?" The sarcasm in the blonde's husky voice didn't go unnoticed as she approached Rachel from behind. And at that moment Rachel made a mental note to never turn her back on Quinn, the chills the girl sent down her spine were beginning to become painful.

"Something like that." Rachel retorted with a despondence in her voice and she watched the sugar melt into the bottom of her cup before stirring it carefully.

Quinn walked around to her side and leaned over shakey tan arms. Skin brushed and the brunette flinched on contact.

"Sorry." Quinn offered a shy smile. "Sugar." She held up the shaker and cocked her head to the side.

They stood in awkward silence while the blonde carefully measured out incriments of sweet grains and Rachel used every ounce of concentration to focus on not spilling her drink and not at all on the way her skin was still burning from Quinn's proximity.

"Sit and catch up?" The taller girl broke the silence with a gesture to an open table.

Rachel wanted nothing more than to say yes. To sit and forget about the past couple months and beg and plead with her emotional psyche to allow her that luxury. She wanted things to go back to how they were before, because despite how difficult they had seemed, she still could trick herself into believing she owned some part of Quinn's heart. And she missed that feeling. She was fine, she had convinced herself of that numerous times. But one glance at the girl in front of her and she suddenly couldn't remember why she strived for _fine_ to begin with. It could be that easy right? Things didn't have to only be fine. They weren't really that bad before, were they? But as she glanced down at the cup the blonde held with a strange hold, she noticed the silver band that determined everything she had done was for all for one reason.

"No." She coughed out the strangle in her voice. "No. I can't."

"Rachel…" Quinn began with a sighing frustration.

"I really can't Quinn."

"It's just coffee."

Rachel's gaze fell to the ground and shook her head. "No. It's not."

The uncomfortable silence arose between the two again as neither wanted to leave and neither knew what to say.

"Look, I –"

"I really need –"

They both began at the same time and followed with a chuckle at the expense of their own awkwardness.

"Go ahead." Rachel said with a smile.

"I just wanted to say you look good. Like, you look, I don't know, bright." The tall blonde gave a shy smile and a shoulder shrug. The gesture partnered with the compliment made tan cheeks blush.

"Thanks." Came her shy response.

Pale skin washed over in pink and Quinn shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'no problem' before Rachel suddenly remembered what she was planning on saying.

"I really have to run. I have an audition for an off-off Broadway troupe in 20 minutes and being late is absolutely unacceptable, as you know, so I really must go before I make myself look like an absolute –"

"Hey Rach," the nickname sent a warmth through her body, "you'll be great."

And for the first time in a long time, Rachel thought she might have somebody to believe.

* * *

_**R&R por favor.**_

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	13. Chapter 13: My Boogie Shoes

A/N: Howdy. Addressing a few things really quick, just to clarify...

The ring Rachel spotted was not a wedding ring, still just an engagement ring, but it stung all the same. Also, Faberry is endgame... even if it takes some time to get there. It is angst for a reason :)

As requested by a few, here is some more Angela for you. And another special guest.

Disclaimer: Hold on, wait for it... nope. Still not mine

* * *

Adrenaline can be a funny little thing. It can make you feel strong and invincible. It can make you do things that would normally shoot up a red flag in a lucid mind. It can allow you to feel like anything is possible, and it sometimes gets us into trouble.

Rachel was flying high on adrenaline when she turned her key and stormed into her apartment. She wanted to open her window and yell to the passerbys down below. She wanted to jump on a train and ride it all the way to the end, making friends with everyone and anyone on her journey. She wanted to soak up every bit of New York and its quirky beauty; from the Upper West Side all the way to the Bronx. She hadn't felt this alive since…well, it had been a long time. Nationals, senior year, she thought. And it was an exquisite feeling.

"Kurt!" it came out as a shriek but she was too enthralled to care. "Kurt!" kept coming out as she ran from kitchen to bedroom to bathroom to living room and jumped on the couch a la Tom Cruise circa 2005. "Kurt!"

"Oh my God! I can hear you woman!" He yelled back with less intensity as he barreled through the apartment in haste.

"I got it! I got the part!" She stopped jumping for a moment to look him square in the eye before letting out a shriek and a laugh and began jumping again.

"You got it?" her enthusiasm was returned as her best friend joined her on the couch.

"You are now looking at Miss Velma Kelly of the Soho Playhouse." She shot him a confident smile and he swore he had never seen her beam so brightly.

"I am so proud of you! A lead! That is…it's just…I have no words, miss. Absolutely speechless." Kurt felt tears forming in his eyes as how proud he was of his best friend turned roommate. "Get dressed star, we are going for drinks! My treat." Springing off the couch and offering her his hand.

"Where are we going?" The smile wouldn't wipe off her face with even the most durable of cleaners.

"Wherever you want."

"Let me just make a few phone calls. I have to tell my dads." He nodded before turning on his heels to give her some privacy. She deserved to brag to anybody who would listen.

She called back to Lima and her dad cried while her daddy insisted on booking flights to be there for opening night, despite it being nearly three months away. She called Shelby, more to brag than anything else. She called Mercedes, Tina, and Artie. She had barely kept in touch with any of them over the years but validation that she was one step closer to a dream that few ever let her believe in seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.

Half an hour later, after the obvious phone calls had all been placed, her finger hovered over the one phone number she had been using all her willpower not to dial the moment she stepped out of the audition.

She scrolled down on her favorites list and called Angela instead.

* * *

Rachel wasn't much of a club-goer these days. She had made her way around the NYADA hot-spots when she first started school. After she came to terms with her bi-sexuality two months into her time in New York thanks to 3 vodka tonics and a blonde junior named Natasha, she scoped out as many of the girl-bars as she could.

She wouldn't consider herself promiscuous. She was far too picky to fall into that category. She hated to admit she had a specific type but, with the exception of Angela, every girl she had ever had relations with was medium height, blonde, fit, and had light colored eyes.

Somebody who had paid more attention to her inventory of trysts may have pointed out a trend of commonality, but alas none did and she could ignore the paradox. She enjoyed it that way.

She hadn't been to Pulse in months. Not since she began her fling with Quinn. The need for her to meet women didn't seem as necessary when she had a perfectly capable one who could adhere to all her sexual fantasies at the tip of her fingers – err, whenever Quinn wanted.

But today was a new day and Rachel was once again, a new Rachel. And she found herself indulging in rhythmic beats while she held up her martini glass to clink with matching ones held by a flamboyant gay man and a beautiful redhead. The latter of the two wrapped her arm around a slim tan waist and gave a light squeeze and a proud smile.

"To Rachel!" Angela cheered and Kurt reciprocated. Rachel felt a smile form around the lip of her glass and reveled in the moment. A moment that seemed so far-stretched to reach only a short time ago. But it was here now and she was going to love every second of it.

The three of them finished those drinks, and then another round, and then shots that were bought for them by a handsome boy – who Rachel wasn't entirely sure was of legal age, but was obviously crushing on Kurt so she let it slide – and were on another round of drinks before the music began to flow through Rachel's veins and limbs and the brunette swayed her hips from side to side.

At some point between shot number two and drink number four, Angela drug Rachel out to the dance floor and pressed their bodies together. The redhead stood well over a head taller than the brunette and in a strange paradox, it reminded Rachel of Finn. The way she had to crane her neck to look into soft blue eyes and stand on her toes to brush their lips together. But her arms were soft and her hands were softer as they drifted up a toned tan back, barely covered by thin material of a little black dress and it made it a little bit better.

The beats of the speakers drowned out the cackling around her as drunken women spilled drinks over their future suitors shoes. Her hips continued to sway as strong hands spun Rachel around and pressed her back into an equally strong front. Rachel reveled in the fact that the woman had such a power and force pinned to her persona. Something about the way she was able to control their movements on the dance floor while balancing an almost full drink in one hand while wrapping a strong arm around Rachel's torso was undeniably sexy. And that sheer sex appeal is what made Rachel lean her head back onto a firm shoulder, her hand intertwine with the pale one on her stomach, and her ass grind further into the girl behind her, all while letting out a breathy moan she knew Angela heard. She knew it because the taller girl leaned her head down near Rachel's ear and whispered _God, you are so sexy _into her waiting ear.

They danced, if you could call dry humping to music dancing, until the alcohol and heat took over their bodies and Rachel needed water something desperate. She excused herself from her…er…from Angela and made her way to the bar.

Tiny feet hopped up onto the molding underneath the bar to prop herself up to normal height, hoping it would give a slight advantage to faster service.

"You know, Hobbit, if you use your obnoxiously loud voice, they are more likely to respond." Rachel knew that voice. She could _never_ mistake that condescending tone.

"Santana. Always a pleasure." She spat as she turned around. She was rather drunk, slightly horny, very thirsty, and not at all in the mood to deal with a self-declared bitch.

"Wouldn't expect to see you here in a girly bar. Your keeper know you're here?" There was a reason the glee club called her Satan back in the day, and every time Rachel came across her, she was reminded of this.

"I have no keeper, Santana." To this the aforementioned girl scoffed. "I see where you are going with this Santana and you are not going to bully me into talking about her. I know you know her and I called quits on whatever semblance of a relationship we were in the midst of the last time you and I talked but I am not going to divulge the 'juicy deets' to you because she refuses to. There is clearly purpose behind that, and I respect her wishes on the sort. So if you will excuse me, I have people waiting." Rachel patted herself on the back and prepared for the onslaught of vengeance that was no doubt going to be spewed her way. She didn't even bother making a break for it, she figured her neck would thank her for the violent whiplash it would avoid from being spun around by the fiery girl in front of her.

"Calm your panties lady Jew-fro. I get the point." There was a lingering silence while Santana took a long swig of beer and Rachel raised an eyebrow her direction – a trick she must have picked up from a quirky blonde along the way. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Picking up her mannerisms I see?" A smug Santana smirked.

"Whose mannerisms?" A sweet southern drawl came from over Rachel's shoulder and her body tensed. _Please, not now, _was her last thought before a soft pair of lips placed a lingering kiss to her cheek and strong arms wrapped around her midsection once again.

The smirk on Santana's face grew and Rachel's eyebrow dropped, being replaced instead by a look of sheer panic.

"Well, hello." The Spanish girl drew with a sultry gleam in her eye. _You can take the girl out of the game, but you can't take the game out of the girl, _Rachel surmised.

"Hi." A warm smile spread across delicate pale features. Angela had no idea what she had just come up against as she propelled her hand forward in greeting.

"Santana, a dear old friend of our little Rachel here." The smaller brunette had enough experience with the girl in front of her to detect a smugness in Santana's voice. "And you are?" Rachel's whole body went stiff. She really hated that tone.

"Angela. Rachel's –" the redhead began and Rachel couldn't keep her mouth shut when she finished.

"Girlfriend. Angela is my _girlfriend_." Rachel mentally slapped herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. The two had not discussed what exactly they were with one another yet, but they definitely had not used that word. She knew she was going to have to do some quick 'on-her-feet' thinking when she would be questioned later.

"Oh?" The same Quinn eyebrow raise must have transferred by way of osmosis.

"Yes. And if you would excuse us. We are out to celebrate my new off-Broadway role the Soho Playhouse and I would much appreciate to continue our night alone." _God, Rachel. Shut up. Just. Shut. Up. _

"No need to say more, Berry." And that smug smile was gone. Rachel couldn't help the wave of nausea that traveled through her stomach and up through her throat, and she knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol in her system.

A tight squeeze came from behind her in an act to deliver comfort and she couldn't help but feel a little more trapped. "You okay, babe?"

Rachel didn't have it in her heart to lie to the girl behind her, not when she didn't know any better so she forced out a "yeah" and nodded her head. She turned out of the arms that had no loosened around her and gave the taller girl a chaste kiss before whispering that she wanted to go home.

While the waited for a cab, Rachel couldn't help the thoughts that rushed though her at the moment;

_What was Santana's angle?_

_What was Santana going to tell Quinn? Was she going to tell her anything?_

_Could she get out of the fact that she now had a 'girlfriend'?_

_Did she even want to?_

She didn't know the answer to any of these questions. But she didn't have a good feeling about any of them.

Her drunkenness had sobered, her nausea replaced horniness and suddenly she didn't feel so invincible anymore.

* * *

_**Ruh roh! Think Santana might play the role of little birdie down the line? I think she might too.**_

**_Read and Review, por favor! :)_**


	14. Chapter 14: This Dance We Do

A/N: So sorry for the late update. But this is twice as long as it normally is so I hope that makes up for a little! Also, I haven't had time to edit, I wanted to get this posted as soon as I could. Edit will definitely come tomorrow!

All mistakes are mine, Glee is still not.

For the record, I don't know about you, but I am ready or the Quinn return.

Enjoy!

* * *

_Silky hands could paint mosaics of Greek Gods on her back and she wouldn't know the difference. For Rachel, that was what this felt like._

_The hands traveled higher and higher, from her thigh to the dimples on the lowest part of her back, to her shoulder blades, and stopping on either side of her neck. She felt firm but soft fingers kneed their way into her heart from the pores on her skin as she watched the candlelight flicker on the wall as her head rested on high thread count cotton._

_The aroma of vanilla and cinnamon invaded her senses as she allowed her body to be enveloped in comfort. The comfort of idle hands and a still mind. The comfort of knowing she was at the brink of pleasure in every possible human way._

_Those same silky hands ran down the lengths of her arms until those same nimble fingers intertwined with their own. A lithe body pressed softly against her back and she felt plump lips come to rest on her shoulder. The weight resting atop her was nothing compared to the heaviness on her heart. The magnitude of comfort and care she felt in that instant tying her down to the bed like a ship docked to the shore._

_A deep breath escaped her lips as the fingers locked with her own brought all four hands above her head to rest on the pillow. A soft kiss was delivered on her shoulder before lips trailed their way up to her neck. The left hand that rested with hers unlocked to brush long brown hair to one side before trailing down her cheek, leaving a scorching path in its wake._

_It made its way to her neck, then to her shoulders and drew what felt like letters into her skin, burning a scar of promises and forget-me-nots on delicate tan flesh. The pain was pleasure and was smoothed over with lips once more._

_She moaned at the loss of heat when the body propped itself up off her, laying on the right side of her body. But the anchor of the hand is hers never wavered._

_The free hand continued it's mindless journey until it reached the dimple at the most southern spot of her back before it smoothed over and molded to her ass. Another kiss was pressed to her shoulder._

_She felt the ache in her core, every nerve in her body screaming for release. The painful throb of acting in slow motion causing her to see spots in the dim light. She gasped when she felt that hand spread her legs and made letters on the inside of her thighs._

_The spots became larger as the hand traveled higher; almost to the spot she needed it the most. Her back arching to thrust her hips to where she could get some relief._

"_Patience." The breathy voice came mumbled from lips still on her skin. "Trust me."_

_And she did._

_Her breath hitched as she felt one finger run slowly and ever so lightly up her core. The sensation amazing, but the pressure not nearly enough. Her hips canted again. "Trust me," mumbled one more time._

_Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes. Trying to picture the smile she felt on her back. She knew it was beautiful. It was engrained into the forefront of her brain._

_The finger brushed through her wetness again and she willed her hips to remain still. The strokes became more frequent and more forceful with each passing second and the will became harder to control. Especially when the addition of a second finger appeared and both digits circled around her opening._

"_Baby." She breathed. Hoping beyond hope the desperation in her voice was masked and the want she felt was speaking in every way she could not. The spots were getting bigger and her mind was going foggy. She itched for release at the hand of the goddess beside her. "Please."_

_Two fingers slowly dipped inside and she released a guttural moan. The hand still locked with hers squeezed in reassurance as the one giving her pleasure pulled out and pushed back in with more force._

_She could feel the wetness dripping from her core below and it earned her a hum of approval against her skin._

"_You feel so good." A husky voice echoed on her ear and she moaned once more. Lips traveled from her shoulder to her ear as a sticky forehead pressed against her temple._

_It was the most intimate of positions she had ever been in. Lying vulnerable and giving way to the body beside her, all while still holding onto the anchor that kept her grounded. _

_Hands sped up and kisses were peppered on her jaw. Fingers curled and pushed at the right times as her breath became quickened. She was so close to the edge, she could feel it approaching at any moment._

"_Come for me, baby."_

Dark spots became bright white stars beneath her eyelids as she gave her body over. She tumbled from the edge and held on tight to the anchor above her head. She opened her mouth but no sound came, just an exhale of bundled up pleasure and gratification.

_A single tear slid down her cheek from unbridled emotion she could no longer contain. The feeling of comfort wrapped in euphoria became too great to handle. Soft lips kissed them away as she heard a whisper, "now come back to me."_

Rachel woke to her alarm with a start. 06:30AM, it read. She groaned at the hour and debated rolling back over into the comfort of her dream before her better judgment caught up with her.

She felt wetness on her cheeks and between her legs and didn't know which was more powerful. These dreams had become more and more frequent, and while she never saw the face of her lover, the voice gave way to any doubt.

"What time is it babe?" a groggy voice slurred beside her and the owner rolled her way, slinging an arm across her middle. It wasn't the voice from her dream, the one she so desperately wanted to hear.

"Six thirty. I need to get up." She made motion to wiggle her way out of bed, determined to wash her face of the unauthorized tears.

"Mmm. But I'm up now." Angela said through a yawn. Her eyes never opening.

"Yeah, you look it." The brunette giggled through an eye-roll her girlfriend couldn't see.

The arm around her waist tightened as one blue eye opened to look at her. "Maybe you should wake me up then." A smirk crossed pale features and a light eyebrow wiggled.

Rachel decided she wasn't going to be able to get rid of the wetness on her cheeks as easily as the one between her legs based on the hold Angela held, so she decided 30 more minutes in bed wouldn't hurt anybody.

* * *

"Again?"

"Again, Miss Berry!"

With a huff, Rachel stood up and took her position again.

Tired didn't begin to cover how she was feeling. This was the sixth day in a row that rehearsal went for nearly 10 hours. Her legs were sore, her voice was beginning to go hoarse, and she found herself dreaming of jail cells and flapper dresses – when she wasn't having inappropriate dreams. Her world was enveloped in everything and anything related to _Chicago._

Days ran into nights which ran into days and she wasn't even sure what time was anymore. Three months of vocal runs. Three months of dance rehearsal. Three months of stage blocking. Three months of _again, again, again!_ Three months and now it was time.

The curtain was set to go up tomorrow evening at 7 precisely and a moment 22 years in the making would finally arrive – Rachel would take a New York stage.

Her fathers arrived in the city around lunch and had been sightseeing with Angela ever since. Rachel was nervous about leaving her hard-to-please dads with her girlfriend, but they all assured it they would be okay. Anyway, it wasn't as if it was the first time she was meeting the Mr. Berrys.

"…_and I know they are gay, but this may come as a shock to them. I have never dated a woman to their knowledge and the mere fact that I am bringing you, well, _here_ may alert them to a seriousness that we have not yet reached. That is not to say that in the future it is completely out of the realm of possibility for us to move our relationship into the territory of –"_

"_Rachel, I promise it is fine." Angela offered with a soft smile as she rested her hand atop the brunette's arms as she clung desperately to the wheel of the rental car._

"_Don't do that." Rachel said in a small voice as she ducked her chin to her chest and shook her head back and forth. She had barely registered her own words coming out of her mouth._

"_Do what?" Angela cocked her head to the side to regard the closed-off girl next to her._

"_Don't… don't patronize me." Rachel took a deep breath. Her voice sounded unsure and the breath she released was shaky. She cringed as soon as the words came out of her mouth; she knew the redhead wasn't doing anything wrong._

"_I'm not… Rachel look at me." Brown eyes pulled away from the steering wheel column and met sharp blue ones. "I wasn't patronizing you. I know this is soon. I know you are nervous. If you rather, I can go check into a hotel for the night and you can pretend I never even came. Hey," She offered with a sweet smile as her thumb stroked the tan skin beneath her palm while she tried to capture Rachel's gaze one again, the brunette looking away in an attempt to avoid conversation. She expected anger from the tall girl next to her but heard no malice in the southern voice, only concern. "I know this is scary. I know this is a big step that we might not be ready for, but I see the way your eyes light up when you talk about your family. They love you, and they won't let anything stop that."_

_Rachel took another deep breath and rested her head on the back of her hand as her grip began to loosen. She knew Angela was right. Her words were sincere and she was a saint for dealing with the diva's up and down mood lately. _

_Rachel had been less than a stellar partner since the beginning of their courtship. One minute she was laughing and cuddling, the next she was closed off and defensive. Angela had just taken the good when it came, and the bad just the same. Rachel hated how much she snapped at the girl who had wormed her way in, she was sweet and attentive. She was always there when Rachel needed her. She diva never had to worry about what she was doing. And most of all, she was patient. And that's what mattered, right?_

_No, the spark wasn't overpowering. She didn't ache to be with the redhead at all hours of the day. The sex was good, not great, but it did it's job. Yes, she would often roll away after a few minutes of post-sex snuggling, claiming she needed space to stretch out in order to sleep. But those were normal things. Not everything was like the movies. Sometimes you didn't see fireworks when you kissed. Especially not months into a relationship. They had been seeing each other for nearly six months. It was completely normal for her to slide out of the honeymoon phase… they had the honeymoon phase, right?_

_Angela took care of her. Angela was reliable. Angela was ready to move forward with her. She could do the same._

_Rachel lifted her head and plastered the best smile she could on her face as she finally released her death grip on the vehicle. "Alright. Let's go."_

Angela had been right. Her father's simply chuckled and said "we've always known" after Rachel gave a long winded rant about how equality for love was a necessity and how she couldn't deny that her feelings for women had been a long brewing emotion.

It didn't take more than an hour in Lima before Rachel's dads were head-over-heels for her girlfriend. They were charmed by her accent, they swooned over her admirable career, and they laughed at her candid jokes. They loved the fact that she willingly ate Rachel's vegan substitutes without complaint and volunteered at the animal shelter on the weekends. She was everything a parent could want in a daughter.

Except for the fact that it was clearly evident that their daughter wanted something _else._

* * *

Opening night was a mediocre success. Nobody tripped, nobody forgot their lines – mostly - save for Jonathon, the pretentious prick. Her fathers cried and Angela cheered from the first row. It was _almost_ perfect.

She sent a quick text to her Daddy that she would be ready to go in fifteen minutes, after she removed the extensive mount of eyeliner, and to get a cab ready and meet her out front. They insisted on taking her and Angela out for a late night drink to celebrate their daughter's stage debut before they caught an early morning fight back to Ohio.

Rachel rolled her eyes at the knock on her door as she finished packing her gym back and slipped a warm beanie on her head. It was no doubt her fathers and their inability to follow simple directions.

It's where she got it.

The knock became more persistent as she took her time to answer, making sure she had everything ready to go. Checking over everything twice, three times, she opened the door briskly, ready to scold her fathers on lack of patience.

"I told you I would be right out." She huffed as she swung open the door to reveal gorgeous green eyes and a nervous smile.

"Hi."

"Quinn?"

"You were…" the blonde stuttered under a firm gaze. "Beautiful up there."

"What are you doing here?" She couldn't hide the hope in her voice. She had dreamed of this moment before. Opening the door to her dressing room and having the blonde stare back at her. Only, in her dreams, she would have been thrown against the vanity and ripped of all her clothes while hearing words of 'Tony' and 'I love you's' in her ears as she was brought to a mind-blowing orgasm – all before the two would head back to their shared apartment on the Upper East Side and made even more passionate love all night.

She couldn't help how her panties soaked at the thought.

"I came to see your show, superstar." The blonde fumbled with the bouquet of assorted flowers in her hand before she presented them with shrug. "And to give you these."

Rachel took the flowers and issued a kind smile. As the thorny branches passed from hand to hand, the diva noticed something _different_. Something new. Something gold, and smooth, and heartbreaking.

"When?" she coughed out with a shaky breath. "Kurt didn't –"

"We eloped. Three months ago." Looked down and spun the band on her left finger – the diamond Rachel had been used to gone and replaced by a more seemingly permanent object.

"Oh." Rachel looked down at her feet, suddenly even more uncomfortable with the small space they were in. "I'm happy for you." It was a lie, and they both knew it.

They hadn't spoken since Rachel got the part. She wondered how the blonde even knew about it. She was sure it hadn't been her roommate to inform the girl in front of her. For all she knew, he wouldn't want to bring up Rachel's name. He was less than happy with Quinn for breaking Rachel's heart. Not that the brunette had ever uttered those words, but he was perceptive and noticed the less than jovial demeanor of his suite-mate. Words of Quinn and Finn and wedding were abandoned and forgotten within their two-bedroom apartment.

So if not him… They weren't facebook friends. Rachel had deleted the blonde from her friends-list after they put the kibosh on their torrid affair. The picture of a tall ogre-like man with grubby hands wrapping his clunky arms around a blonde delicate figure mocked her whenever it stared back on her timeline.

She knew Quinn didn't keep in touch with any of the gleeks from their younger years. Aside from Kurt, and Finn (obviously) and Brittany and…

_Santana. _Rachel thought as she flipped through the pages of her mental notebook. She had regretted letting her new job slip to the gossip-hungry girl the moment it had. That and the concept of Angela. Surely, Santana hadn't let that little tidbit of glorious information slip from her mind the very next time she spoke to her best friend.

"I should go. And I'm sure _Finn_ is waiting. So…" the acidic bitterness in her voice could cut through grease.

"Rachel –"

"Don't." Her tone was strong and her eyes bore into the green ones in front of her.

"Hey Rach, you're dads are getting impatient."_ Perfect._

_Just fucking perfect._

The redhead stopped in her tracks as she bounded around the corner, her gaze shifting from her small girlfriend to the blonde stranger. She would have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to not notice the tension she was cutting through with her razor like aura.

"Yeah, I'm coming." Rachel's gaze never wavered from Quinn, and the blonde's didn't falter either.

Angela coughed awkwardly in the foreground before Rachel's focus shifted to her tall girlfriend. She hadn't known how long they had all been standing there. Quinn turned around to follow Rachel's attention and lifted her shoulders to what Rachel knew as her defensive stance.

"Hi, I'm Angela." The girl offered with a kind smile. Though, Rachel didn't miss the way her blue eyes quickly ran up and down the length of Quinn's body in a method to 'size her up'. "And you…?"

"Quinn." The blonde offered with a cold stare that Rachel hadn't truly seen since within the walls of McKinley. The brunette shuttered at the ferocity of behind her piercing green eyes. Angela retracted her outreached hand when Quinn merely looked at it with a raised eyebrow and scoffed.

She wouldn't get her hopes up and pin the blonde's reaction as jealously. For all she knew, the name Angela was foreign to delicate ears.

The redhead wasn't one to back down, however, as she swept across the threshold of the ever shrinking dressing room and wrapped a possessive arm around the diva's midsection.

Rachel was positive she heard a low growl erupt from Quinn's throat at the obvious action. Rachel whimpered.

"Are you a friend of Rachel's? Or…?" the girl prodded, knowing she held the upper hand here.

"Or." Came another one word answer from the snarky, seemingly fuming blonde that stood before the couple, all delicacy of the girl fading as soon as Angela had made her entrance.

The two girls stood metaphorically toe-to-toe for what felt like hours before Rachel felt the need to interject.

"Quinn and I went to high school together. She was one of the main driving factors behind me getting to New York, if not _the_ only key of reason." Rachel smiled as she thought back to their heated talk in the theater junior year. As mad as she had been at the blonde at the time, she eventually realized the blonde's intentions were pure, despite being manipulative.

Quinn cocked her head and let her lips curl as her face softened at the brunette's words. She never knew Rachel had felt that way, and that fact was evident as the kind words registered.

The moment only lasted so long before Angela let out a scoff of her own and tightened her hold around the tiny diva.

"So you are one of the torturers, I presume?" Rachel's demeanor blanched as the harshness of redhead's words echoed in the small room.

"I think I have more than made up for it." Quinn smirked at the taller girl as she raised her shoulders once more. Rachel couldn't pinpoint the reason Angela's defensiveness made her squirm, while Quinn's made her swoon.

"Luckily for you, I don't know if you know this, but Rachel is a _very_ forgiving person. Too forgiving sometimes if you ask me." It was said with a smile and a press of lips to Rachel's shiny forehead – this near-altercation was making her sweat – but Rachel could sense the jab in the words.

Quinn's eyes squinted in fury at the implication that this _soulless ginger_ – her words – knew Rachel better than she. Her shoulders squared impossibly more, and Rachel was positive that she heard the growl this time.

She was going to need to throw this pair of underwear out as soon as she got home.

"I don't believe anybody _did_ ask you, _puta._" Rachel tried to hide her smile on the word she _knew_ had rubbed off from a temperamental Latina.

"Ah." Angela tapped her chin with her free hand before bringing her index finger up to poke at Quinn, letting out a sinister chuckle in the process. "I know _exactly_ who you are now."

Quinn's eyebrow, _oh that so so sexy eyebrow_ in question.

Maybe she had an extra pair of panties in her bag? Rachel was sure she packed them.

"It took me a second because you look different now. You know, _without_ child." Rachel flinched at the low blow. "You obviously aren't Tina or Mercedes. Santana I met. And Rachel described Brittany as the 'sweetest person you will ever meet, despite her lack of cognizance at points' and I knew that couldn't possibly be you."

It had been about a month into their dating when Angela picked up a framed photo of Kurt and Rachel and 10 unfamiliar faces smiling and holding a trophy. It had been taken their sophomore year after sectionals. Bright smiling faces, all of which Angela inquired about and got a lengthy back-story. All except a mysterious blonde who was smiling giddily as her arm hung over Rachel's delicate shoulder. Happiness was pouring out from each one of them, previous fisticuffs were irrelevant in the moment.

"_She's just a girl I used to know." Rachel said before immediately jumping up and retrieving the vegan key lime pie of the kitchen counter._

The redhead barely flinched when the blonde surged half a foot forward before settling for simply clenching her hands at her sides. "Congratulations on the – " the redhead looked down at the former cheerleaders left hand, "wedding."

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose, expecting at any moment for Quinn to start wailing on her, right now, insanely rude girlfriend. But when she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to see Quinn hanging her head in what looked like shame. _Where did that come from?_

"Angela, I'll meet you outside." She demanded with a firmness in her tone that left none to be debated. The girl leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek before taking a step closer to Quinn and purposefully brushing shoulders with the defeated girl on her way out the door.

Rachel took in the image of Quinn in that moment. Her shoulders slumped, her head hung, and her ragged breaths escaped her beautiful lips. She looked nothing like Rachel was so used to seeing. The blonde was no longer the girl that stood only moments before in front of her girlfriend, channeling the inner HBIC.

"Quinn –" Rachel began, before she realized she didn't know what to say. The shift was so abrupt, and she couldn't put her finger on what caused it.

"You should go." The blonde looked up with a steely face and blurry eyes.

"Are you sure you –"

"Finn is waiting." Quinn bit back. The vulnerability now gone and replaced by anger. "And so is Angela."

Rachel knew it was fruitless to try and argue, so she picked up the discarded flowers of the vanity and brushed her way past the statuesque blonde. Only a brief pause in the doorway to steal a glance over her shoulder, and Rachel was gone.

* * *

**Review? Pretty please? Pretty please with a pouty face?**


	15. Chapter 15: Heal Me, I'm Broken

_A/N: We back. __Okay, okay. So I realize that most of you hate Quinn in this. This will either make you hate her more or see where she is coming from in her own screwed up little way. Either is acceptable. I am not trying to write any of the characters to be loved, or hated, or sympathized, or whathaveyou. Simply trying to tell a story. So whatever your gut is about a character, that is perfectly okay. I also realize that some of them may be OOC, to which I apologize. I try and keep them as close as possible, but alas, I am not Ryan Murphy and do not have them down to a science. That being said, I hope you enjoy this, and if you don't…. At least maybe this chapter will at least answer some questions._

_Also, I guess I should point out something I didn't when I started. This is angst and it may be a little painful at times, but it is without a doubt Rachel/Quinn endgame. They both do things that are dumb and hurtful, but they always have a reason. Even if you and I don't understand it._

* * *

Lucy Quinn Fabray was a planner.

Everything had a rhyme and a reason.

Spontaneous decisions only caused her trouble. Her emotional choice to allow Noah Puckerman a one-way ticket into her pants because she had momentarily felt fat left her with an iligitamate child and a hasty exit from her childhood home. Her spur-of-the-moment decision to rebel against typical high school society left her with a rather hideous tattoo on her lower back, which has since been painfully removed.

Her life was laid out on a course. Get an education she would most likely never use for any of the greater good, marry her high school sweetheart, plan the perfect dinner parties for him and his collegues, make a beautiful home with 2.5 children and never question the what-ifs.

Nobody ever told her that plans are meant to be completely and totally fucked up.

She never _planned_ on living in a small two-bedroom apartment with a leaky faucet and a noisy neighbor. She never planned on having a child who only knew her as a name signed at the bottom of a birthday card. She never planned on having a fiancée – husband – who cared more about where his next drink was coming from than he did about her. She never planned on running into Rachel Berry again.

She never planned to be absolutely head-over-heels in love with the girl, either.

She knew it sounded ridiculous. Hell, it sounded ridiculous in her own head. It sounded even more ridiculous when she got plastered and told Santana all about how all she wanted to do was cry every time Rachel walked out of her apartment.

She blamed herself for everything that had happened between herself and the brunette diva. She blamed herself for leading the girl into her apartment and into her rather screwed up life.

Her miserable stinking life where she went home to a man she didn't love and who didn't love her. A life she had planned for just to make her family happy. A family who never really cared.

She blamed herself for how unhappy she was. If she had been a better girlfriend, maybe Finn wouldn't have turned to the bottle. (Deep down she knew this wasn't true.) She should never have asked Rachel to come home with her that night from the bar. She should have never kept calling. But no matter how wrong she knew their situation was, she couldn't help the magnetic pull she had to the girl.

She found herself torn between right and wrong. It was wrong to cheat on Finn. It was wrong to use Rachel. It was wrong to never tell either of them how she truly felt. But being there, in the moment, with the girl who truly captured her heart before she even knew what happened, felt oh so right.

So, her plan had changed over the last couple years. Maybe it was time for a new plan. Maybe there was no planning for matters of the heart.

So without knowing how or when or why, she found her plan led her straight to the door of the girl maybe she was always meant to find.

* * *

"You are being ridiculous, Rachel." Kurt huffed as he watched his roommate zig and zag around the kitchen in a fury.

"Agree to disagree, my fashionable friend." She countered, putting the finishing touches on the vegan cupcakes she had recently removed from the oven.

"How is this anything but ridiculous?" he released through a breath.

"We both know what we want and don't want. This is merely a compromise."

"Rachel, a compromise is made over what to eat for dinner! It is not moving in together!" He pulled as his gelled hair in frustration.

"We are compromising. I turned down her marriage proposal, I felt like this was the least I could do." She reached around her roommate to grab her favorite coffee mug out of the cabinet. She inspected it for any blemishes before she wrapped it in yesterday's newspaper and carefully placed it in a cardboard box.

"Are you a fucking idiot?" His frustration was evident. He just didn't see how his best friend could be tricking herself to believe something so, so, so, _absurd_. "You do hear yourself, don't you?"

Rachel rolled her eyes as she set the towel down on the counter and spun around to him.

"First of all, that is rude. Second, I understand that it is not conventional." Kurt scoffed and she pushed through. "I know that turning down a proposal is typically a sign of not wanting to be with somebody, but she is prepared for my emotional ups and downs. She's been dealing with it ever since..." She trailed off with a shrug of her shoulder and moved for the plates.

Kurt nodded his head carefully in understanding. He knew the last few months had been hard for Rachel to get over his, now, sister-in-law. But he also knew that his full personality friend was going about it all the wrong way.

Instead of wallowing in self-pity, eating an entire tub of ice cream, and refusing to get out of her sweats for days on end, she simply put a fake smile on her face and continued on her way.

He had no idea that his brother eloped with Quinn. Not until Rachel came home after her opening night performance and casually mentioned it as she asked him to hand over the bottle opener. For a split second he thought she had been joking, until he read the sorrow deeply hidden in her eyes. It lasted for a flash before Rachel simply insisted that she was fine, she was moving on, she was going to keep things moving with Angela and she was going to be happy.

It pained him to see his best friend like this. Settling. She was settling. And she knew it.

"As long as you are absolutely sure it's what you want." He pleaded in one last attempt. He couldn't talk her out of it, but he could support her, no matter what idiotic decision she made. He watched her as her face contorted to one filled with thought. She was interrupted from responding by the obnoxious screech of the doorbell.

* * *

It wasn't that Quinn was expecting a hug when the brunette ripped the door open, but she definitely was not expecting the sharp sting that met her cheek.

"Alright." She popped her jaw and rubbed a careless hand across to sooth the pain. "I probably deserved that."

"Get the fuck out." The brunette in front of her seethed. She expected this. She expected the bitterness. She expected the hatred in her tone. She would just have to push through.

"I can explain." Quinn rushed out. She had so much to say, so much to explain to the girl who never deserved any of this. "Rach-"

"No. I am speaking now and you are going to shut up." The blonde snapped her open mouth closed and nodded her head. "I am done being hurt by you. You keep waltzing back into my life when I am _trying_ to move on." Her voice broke towards the end of her sentence and she shook her head. "I have moved on Quinn. I am sick and tired of this back and forth. I know how this goes. You come here looking like a kicked puppy, asking if I will talk to you. You make me feel so… and then you act like you did nothing wrong."

Quinn went to open her mouth to defend herself before she stopped.

"Maybe you don't think you did anything wrong. And maybe you're right. Technically, _I_ am the _mistress_, the other _woman_. I'm nothing, really."

Quinn wanted to scream out her objections because, no! No! She was absolutely _not_ nothing. She was… she was wonderful and she was everything that Quinn herself could never become. Determined and proud and worth so much, much more than what Quinn could never give her. The thought alone broke the blonde's heart even more.

"But you want to know the worst part of all of this Quinn? I expected you to come back. Each and every time I walked out that door, I waited for you to chase me down. I waited for you come barreling down the hall after me to tell me not to go. To tell me that you were leaving him. To tell me anything. Every single time I swore I was done with you but all it took was you coming back and giving me that _look_ and I…" Rachel paused as the anger in her body shifted to sorrow. "There is this wonderful woman who loves me and you give me that look and I just want… and I can't, Quinn. I can't because each and every time you don't come after me, I break even more inside."

With each passing word, Quinn's heart shattered.

"I can't keep doing this. You can't keep doing this to me. It has been _months_, Quinn. Months. And I just want to… I just want to move on. Why can't you let me?"

The blonde's eyes shifted between the two beautiful brown ones in front of her and had no answer. She had no answer because everything Rachel was saying was right. She wasn't being fair to the brunette. She had selfishly held on to Rachel's loyalty and trust in her – that she knew she didn't deserve – out of pure selfishness.

She had come to accept that she loved the girl in front of her. She had accepted it back in high school when all she deserved was a swift kick in the shin from the diva for how she treated her but was only given compassion.

It wasn't fear that kept her from her feelings, it was guilt. Rachel hadn't deserved the verbal and emotional abuse. She never deserved the slushies and they evil words Quinn threw her way. She was just an innocent outlet to Quinn's self denial.

She could remember the day it changed. It was Nationals their senior year. Rachel stood alone on stage, singing her heart out with no holds, no walls, just unhindered emotion. Quinn waited in the wings in her little black dress with the rest of the team for the lights to dim and the group number to start and she just watched. She watched as a light trail of tears traced a beautiful smooth cheek and the diva did that adorable little scrunchy face thing when she hit the big note. It was nothing different than Quinn had seen before. But in this moment she just, _knew._

She told herself to walk away, to never hurt Rachel again. The only way she knew how to do that was to leave the girl's life completely. Hateful words were replaced with silence. It was simple, really. Keep her mouth shut, keep the mean words in, keep the confessions in, keep the pain in. It worked… most of the time.

She had her plan. She had to stick to it.

But now, her plan was shit. Absolute shit. Her plan went to shit the moment she saw Rachel in that bar. She should have turned away, she should have paid her bill and went home. But the 18 year old girl in her that still lusted after the fiery diva decided to be selfish, to indulge.

She lost the fight a long time ago. The fight against Rachel, the fight against herself, the fight against hope.

She looked up into teary eyes and realized that this time Rachel wanted an answer.

"I'm so, so, so very sorry, Rachel." She whispered. The words didn't even begin to cover it. "I know I hurt you. I know I keep hurting you. I can never forgive myself for that, and I don't deserve to be forgiven by you." She hung her head and willed the tears to stay away as she plugged through what she came to say.

"God, I don't deserve it. You will never know how horrible I feel for everything I have ever done to you. I didn't come here to ask you to forgive me. Or ask you to, well…" She couldn't bring herself to acknowledge how she had been using Rachel for sex out loud. It sounded so vile. But it was at that moment that Quinn couldn't exactly pinpoint her reasoning for knocking on the blonde's door. Other than –

"I just miss you. So fucking much sometimes that I forget that… It's not my place, I know. It's not my place to be here and to cry. _God,_ I should not be the one crying! I hurt you and I deserve anything you say to me and more." Quinn tried with every ounce of being to keep the tears at bay, but a few rogue drops leaked out anyway.

"I want you to be happy. I know that you can't be, not with me doing this all the time. It's unbalanced and it's confusing and I know that. I know that I don't talk, but I can't walk away from you until I say everything I have to say. Until you aren't as in the dark."

_Love isn't selfish. It's time to be selfless. It's time to tell her._

"Come with me." Quinn husked so quietly, Rachel had to lean in to hear it.

"Why should I even think to – "

"Please, Rach. I need to show you something."

"Quinn, I am done. I am done with your games, and I am done with you." The words stung her own throat as they came out.

"Rachel, please. You can never speak to me again after this but I cannot let you walk away without knowing ever secret I have to share."

Despite all of her better judgment, Rachel shakily accepted Quinn's outreached hand and followed the girl to the nearest Subway station.

* * *

Neither girl spoke a word on the familiar trek to the blonde's apartment. Rachel's thoughts the entire time were to run the other way, let her feet take her far from pain and hurt and the spell Quinn held over her.

She thought she was going to, until she crossed the threshold of the apartment that held so many of her demons. Wordlessly, Quinn flipped on the dim overhead light in the front hallway and set her keys down on the kitchen counter as she continued to walk into the living room and directed Rachel to sit down on the unwelcoming couch.

Rachel cautiously sat, as if the fibers beneath her would burn her flesh through her clothes and send her straight to hell.

She wasn't convinced she wasn't already there sometimes.

Rachel watched as Quinn slowly unzipped her jacket and tossed it carelessly to the floor. Hazel eyes never breaking contact with brown. She worried her lip in concentration as shaky hands moved to the hem of her shirt and slowly started to pull up.

Rachel scoffed at what she believed the action meant. "I will absolutely not engage in any type of intercourse with you Quinn Fabray. And if you think for one second that I would allow myself to stoop as low to – "

Quinn paused her actions when Rachel began to stand – clearly making to move out of the apartment.

But then… Rachel was halted by the sight in front of her. This was not the overly confident Quinn. This was not the girl who would previously rip clothes and fuck her ten ways to Egypt without a single thought. This girl had tears in her eyes and a hitch in her throat when she mumbled "please, Rachel, just please."

_Still not going to sleep with her._

She tried not to let her eyes rake over every inch of milky skin as it was revealed. She had only seen Quinn shirtless a small handful of times in the past and each time it was under the glow of moonlight. She almost always insisted on ravishing Rachel without so much as removing a sock on herself.

As soon as the shirt hit the floor near its discarded companion, Rachel moved her eyes over a shoulder covered now by only a small black bra strap to focus on the mantle above the fireplace. She only noticed in the forefront of her sight that the body she was avoiding was now moving impossibly close and kneeling down in front of her.

It was only when a smooth hand touched the side of her face that she took in the girl before her. Tears in hazel eyes were no longer being kept at bay, but were freely cascading down smooth cheeks. Rachel's heart shattered a little bit at how broken the normally stoic-to-a-flaw girl appeared.

"I'm not good at words, but I need to tell you. I have so much to tell you, secrets to tell you but I don't have the words." The brunettes face washed over in confusion at the vulnerability in the usually stoic voice. It was heartbreaking to hear.

Rachel would have thought to get the hell out and never look back when Quinn reached for her hand and moved it to the clasp on her back. She would have stopped her fingers when they released the two points of material from their hold and let the remaining article of clothing fall free to the floor. She would have if Quinn's tears hadn't turned into quiet sobs.

Quinn's face wasn't bashful or aroused now that she was exposed. Her cheeks weren't flushed red and her eyes weren't black with arousal. Her nipples didn't grow hard in anticipation and her underwear didn't soak uncomfortably so. Instead, she choked back more tears as Rachel looked down and saw a secret she had so desperately been trying to hide.

"Quinn." Rachel's voice was soft as she took in the black and blue splotches painted all across delicate skin. "You are covered."

"Are those – " Rachel had to clear her throat to ask the question. "Did he do this?"

Quinn fought everything inside herself at the urge to cover up. She felt ashamed at what she had let happen to herself. But that wasn't the purpose of bringing Rachel up here. The purpose was to be one hundred and ten percent honest. No matter what.

"Yes." Blonde hair bobbed up and down and Quinn silently wondered how her body continued to produce so many tears.

Rachel allowed her eyes to drift from rib to rib and they climbed higher up the small frame in front of her. Each one was a slightly different color and each one probably had it's own story. Each looked deeper and more painful than the one before. The darker the colors, the more Rachel's heart broke.

She couldn't control when her hand slowly reached up to feel the skin under the scrutiny of her eyes. The skin looked lifeless and the brunette tried to count the number of times she saw the bones below rise and fall with staggered breaths.

Quinn moved to flinch when Rachel's fingertips ghosted and Rachel's heart shattered further at the action as her hands retracted back to her sides.

"Please, try again." Rachel heard from above her downturned head. The voice was soft and vulnerable and Rachel didn't even need to ask what exactly the girl meant.

She reached her fingers out again and prepared herself for the flinch she knew was coming. She allowed Quinn to squirm when the bare tips of her fingers brushed along purple flesh. The touch ignited something within both and actions were beyond control.

She couldn't explain why she rested her forehead in the crook of Quinn's breastbone and sobbed. And she couldn't explain why the girl comforted her, despite being in a mass of her own pain.

* * *

_A/N part deux: Next chapter will have more of Rachel and Quinn talking, perhaps her explaining a little more of what the hell is going on in her screwed up little head. More Kurt, more Santana, more Angela, and (eeshk) some Finn. I guess we should probably hate him when he is actually present._

_Reviews are love. So are hugs._


	16. Chapter 16: For Reasons Unknown

_Woot! I'm back! Okay, so I got a little lost with how I wanted this conversation to go. I didn't want to give away all Quinn's answers and reasons for things (it's because I care, really) and I didn't want to leave them in the same place there were before. I think I got them where I wanted them to be. Guess we will see. I know this is short, but that's how it is intended to be. I didn't think _

_I'm not entirely confident in this chapter, so please please please, constructive feedback is much appreciated. You hate it, you love it, you are indifferent, I wasted your time, I made your day. All are acceptable. _

_A/N: All mistakes are my own, Glee is not. I don't have a beta but I could probably desperately use one so if you want to apply for the job, message me._

_Happy 2013 everybody!_

* * *

Neither girl knew how long they sat there as Rachel let her body wash over in sympathy and guilt. Neither knew when Quinn had moved to Rachel's side on the couch and draped a blanket over her own cold shoulders. And neither knew when both let exhaustion take over and sleep invade them.

Quinn woke first and allowed a small smile to etch the left side of her mouth at the sight of completely disheveled brown hair splayed across her lap. She pulled the scratchy wool blanket tighter around her naked torso with her left hand as her right reached out to smooth the hair below.

She wasn't sure if it was the ministrations or the hushed 'thank you' that stirred Rachel, but she let her smile reach both sides of her mouth when sleep filled brown eyes blinked up at her.

"How long was I out?" The diva asked through a yawn, barely noting the hand that continued to rake lightly through her hair.

"Dunno. I just woke up." Quinn winced as she moved to stretch. However long she had been out had really done a number on her neck and back.

It was only after a moment of reveling in the feel of Quinn's nails massaging her scalp that Rachel reluctantly sat up and took in the puffy eyes staring back at her. Remembering what got them in this position to begin with.

"Why did you marry him?" was the first and only question Rachel could think to ask.

Quinn looked down at her hands that had moved back into her lap and sat silent, thinking, before she answered. She had thought about this question herself time and time again over the past few months.

"He wasn't always like this." Rachel scoffed at the deflection before Quinn continued. "Back when we were in high school he was such a good guy. Goofy and naive, but a good guy. He was my best friend and I could tell him everything. Yeah, we had our ups and downs but he was the only person who ever really listened without judgment." She let out a deep sigh before running her hands through choppy hair. "I never thought I was going to get out of that place, get out of Lima, ya know? But then I did and he followed and I didn't have the heart to tell him not to. He was so supportive and he never told me no."

Rachel nodded her head and shifted her body to face Quinn. She could understand where the girl was coming from; Finn had always been hard to turn away in high school. That she could remember.

"I had all these pressures from my family, from my friends, to be this perfect person. I never felt like he had those expectations from me. So when he proposed I felt like it was the next step in this perfectly calculated life I was bound to live."

Rachel watched as emotions splayed across delicate features. But she didn't press, she just patiently waited for the blonde to continue.

"I never wanted to be a lawyer, ya know? I wanted to paint. I wanted to go to art school up here. But that's not the dream, is it? To be a starving artist in the big city waiting for the next break, the next meal, the next paycheck. I had this life planned out for me. I had these expectations to live up to. I really thought it was all on its way to being a story book ending until that night I walked into Clydes." Quinn let out a dry chuckle and Rachel couldn't remember the last time she took a breath.

"I had no idea where you were. I knew you were somewhere in the city, but I didn't know where. Kurt mentioned a couple times that he lived with you, but I tried not to think about how you had made it. How you had followed your dreams and I ignored mine." The brunette ached to comfort the fragile girl by her side but refrained from reaching out.

"The night I, we… it was the first night he hit me. He had come home from work after seeing a case where a nanny had killed the kid she was taking care of. He went to the bar and came home drunk and belligerent. He wasn't Finn. He wasn't the Finn I knew as a kid or the Finn I had brought with me to New York. He was angry and mean. And when I told him to take a shower and sleep it off he told me I was an ungrateful whore and slapped me. I stormed out, went down to Clydes and I saw you. And you looked so beautifully sad." Quinn let out a sad lopsided smile at the girl next to her and reached a pale hand up to cup a perfectly rounded cheek.

"I'm so ashamed with myself for letting it get this far. That's why I never let you touch me. I don't deserve to have such beautiful hands touch such damaged skin." Quinn moved her hands down to the ones in question and cradled them like they were the most precious things that life had created. "These hands were meant to paint portraits of greatness and I am anything but great. I am nowhere near good enough for these hands."

Rachel sighed at the heartbreaking romanticism and shook her head lightly in protest. Given the opportunity, she would move mountains to prove to Quinn that she was more than good enough.

"That's not true."

"It's neither here nor there." Was echoed into the silence before they both became lost in the agony of their own minds.

"But why would you marry him after that? Why go back to him?" Rachel asked again once she realized her initial question had been avoided.

"Self deprecation, maybe?" Quinn let out a dry chuckle dropped her hand into her lap.

"Quinn, that's –"

"True?" The blonde looked over to the girl beside her and shook her head, fiddling with her own hands as means of distraction. "I was so, so horrible to you back in high school. I was horrible to everyone, but mainly to you. I pushed you around, I called you names. I tried to ruin any bit of happiness for you. Hell, I stole Finn from you when I didn't even really want him myself at the time. But the funny thing? I never hated you. My therapist calls it 'misplaced emotions'. I think I finally understand it."

"And how does your therapist feel about all _this_." Rachel gestured to the blonde's midsection with a huff before shaking her head in regret. "I'm sorry. That's not my place. I shouldn't –"

"She thinks I should leave him." Quinn stated so matter-of-fact it made Rachel cringe. The topic had obviously come up enough that now it was almost something clinical.

"So why don't you!" The question was so simple to Rachel, she couldn't hold back the emotion in her voice. She didn't know much about the blonde's relationship with her ex-boyfriend, but she knew it could never warrant _this_.

Quinn bristled at the tone in the petite girls voice but her face remained unchanged. She looked up to the ceiling as if the perfect words were written on the ceiling and would magically float down to her, travel through her eyes and out of her mouth. Poetic and perfect. Instead, all she could whisper was;

"I'm _scared._"

Rachel nodded her head slowly, not knowing what the proper response would be. She couldn't tell her not to be afraid. Truth was, Rachel had no idea what she would do in a similar situation. All she knew was that she had this uncontrollable urge to protect Quinn. That, and punch Finn right in the balls.

"Can I ask you one more question?" The brunette whispered into the silence. It didn't feel like a moment to speak any louder than the brush of a ceiling fan.

"Can you promise not to get upset if I don't know the answer?" Rachel tilted her head in response, knowing that Quinn's attempt at humor was a way to cover up her fear.

"I know you're scared, and I can never understand the level that it must consume you. But can you help me understand _why_ you chose to marry him now?"

Quinn sighed and pulled her legs up to her chest, leaning her head against bone knees and turning her head towards the girl beside her. "Can you promise not to take this the wrong way? I don't want you blaming yourself for _anything_ and I don't want this to come out wrong." Quinn paused and waited for the smaller girl to nod her head before continuing.

"I promise."

"I did it for you, Rachel." The actress went to open her mouth before realizing she promised to hear the girl out. "I did it to keep you away from me. That's the simplest answer I have. Santana told me how happy you looked when she saw you and I thought it was the only way to keep you away. Because lord knows, I can't stay away from you on my own."

A million and one things rolled around in Rachel's head, but no words came out. How ridiculous the notion was. How absurd it was for Quinn to put herself in such a situation for what she believed was Rachel's benefit. It was in that moment that she realized she barely knew this new Quinn. This beaten, battered and broken Quinn. But, God, how she didn't love her any less.

"I love you, Rachel. I love you so very much and I will do anything to protect your happiness. Even if it means sacrificing my own."

And at that moment Rachel knew she would never find the words to mend this mess. All she could do was pull the girl beside her into her own body and let out the remainder of her tears.

* * *

**_ Questions, comments, concerns? Super Bowl predictions? Oh. And ha. Silly Leprechauns. _**


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